


And if there's a reason

by Sylvalum



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alvis is Ontos (Xenoblade Chronicles), Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Post-Torna the Golden Country, Self-Hatred, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-01-03 22:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvalum/pseuds/Sylvalum
Summary: Years after the Aegis War, and Jin and Malos are travelling together. They’re trying to figure out how to set their terrible plan into motion, when they unexpectedly meet the last Aegis, Ontos, who everyone thought lost forever. And whonowseems to have come to Alrest only to destroy Malos and Jin’s carefully laid plans with his relentless questions.





	1. I'm God

The forest seems to eat up sounds and light, and Malos doubts that anyone else than him can even see in between the trunks of the trees. It’s night. He’s looking at trees because it’s the only damn thing there’s to look  _ at _ , sitting in a wagon with a bunch of humans. A man is snoring. A couple women in dresses adorned with tassel are sitting together and smoking something that smells cloyingly like the bathrooms in the Praetorium. The driver takes no notice of either of them, simply stares lifelessly out into the night while his steeds trot mechanically forward. The lanterns on all the carriages behind them glow dimly through the branches, and Malos swears the caravan seems to get longer every time he checks.

Absentmindedly, he rubs his shoulder and looks at the road, the stone path disappearing into ever more darkness – and then there’s a light. Or something flashes up. A spark. 

Malos startles but does not do anything like stand up or spontaneously leap off the wagon, the light fading as fast as it came, and  _ you know what? _ Maybe he’s actually started hallucinating. He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the road, like he’s even gonna see anything, but then he  _ does _ . He sees some dumbass standing right in the middle of the road, and barks out, “Stop!” and the idiot driver startles so bad he almost falls of the wagon, but then he gets the animals to trot off to the side of the road and at that point Malos is already jumping off.

The idiot on the road just stands there, head cocked as he lazily regards the wagon, but for some dumb reason Malos’s anger  _ fades away _ the closer he looks at the man. Oh shit. He recognises the idiot. Malos has never seen him before, but the dark skin and floppy white hairdo and the crystal by his throat are just… familiar. Deep down, he knows… something.

Why.

“Hey,” Malos calls out, to which the man just starts  _ walking away _ , out into the woods, and Malos can’t believe that he’s really fucking doing it, but damn it, he chases after the man anyway. He needs to talk to him. It’s not like the man goes very far either, no, he just stops there in the forest and stares at Malos with an unreadable expression, and Malos comes to a stop to glare at him. Unfortunately only two seconds after they lock eyes something  _ clicks _ in Malos head, and then there’s a voice  _ in his head _ saying;

_ ‘Good evening, Logos.’ _

This isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to Malos, even though it’s up there on the weird list, and Alrest is a fucked up place. What the fuck, Malos died once already, this is barely anything. So Malos stares hard at the man and thinks, the name only coming to his mind by looking hard at the guy’s face and taking a wild guess,  _ Ontos? _

The man smiles.

Aegis-only telepathy, Malos figures, and rolls with it.  _ Why are you here? _

There are many things he’d like to yell at Ontos, but who knows what would happen then. He can feel Ontos’s power, if he concentrates on it, but it’s slippery and  _ off  _ and Malos can’t discern any element. Provoking Ontos could turn into one of those things that are really hilarious, but only in the exact moment it’s happening and never again (because after it you’re six feet under).

_ ‘I wanted to see you’ _

Real sweet of him, isn’t that just. Malos’s scepticism must bleed through their brand new telepathy link, for Ontos gives him this look. Malos tries to ignore that the third and last Aegis is giving him a look that smug. It’s the middle of the night and they’re right in the middle of nowhere, Malos might as well take a chance here. He thinks,  _ do you want to join me? _

_ ‘In what?’ _

_ For starters, _ Malos thinks bitterly,  _ getting off this Titan. _

They’ve just been taking each day as it comes, stumbling towards a goal so far away it’s laughable. It’s not. Malos feels the hate still churning in him, the cold anger that makes him stubbornly carry on despite the fact that he’s too weak to even summon forth his damned sword. This thing’s gonna have one hell of a body count if everything goes like it’s supposed to. But for now, nothing. Focus on staying alive. Malos may be full of hate and Jin’s gotten sharper and colder, but right now he’s sleeping back in another wagon and Malos is – is what? They’re traveling with merchants and refugees and vagabonds, hiding in cloaks, sitting up all night and keeping watch because everything could kill you when you have no power.

Ontos takes a moment to answer. He tilts his head like he’s amused and Malos hears, baffled and a bit sad, ‘ _ what in the world are you doing, Logos?’ _

Malos grits his teeth. Yeah, what? Is he gonna destroy the world now? With his cracked Core and Jin’s many issues? Is that what he’s doing right now? Is being on this Titan a step in their grand master plan _ , is _ there a grand master plan?

He says out loud, “…I don’t know.”

And Ontos steps forward, breaking their staring contest and saying out loud, “Alright. Lead the way.”

It’s quiet in Malos head. He turns and starts walking briskly to catch up with the caravan, Ontos trailing after him.

* * *

The rider in front doesn’t even seem to notice that Malos brought one person more back with him. Malos just pulls his hood more firmly up and takes his old seat, Ontos dropping down to sit next to him. For one blessed minute, Ontos doesn’t say anything, just hums a quiet tune. They stare into the woods as the caravan trots forward slowly. Then the thick canopy of branches above them starts to let up, and hundred-year old trees turn into small little saplings and bushes, and then they’re out on the plains again. Evidently that’s what the driver was waiting for, as he then makes the animals come to a stop, and the other wagons start slowing down too, spreading out over the grass.

People start to climb out of the wagons and carriages and carts and set up camp or something, and of course that’s when Ontos decides to start talking again. “So, Logos,” he begins.

Malos immediately interrupts with, “My name is Malos.”

“…Malos?” Ontos asks, and gives him a sad look that makes Malos want to punch him.

“Yes.”

“Well then.” Ontos smiles again. “I’m Ontos. What is it that you’re going to do, after leaving Skyldin?”

Malos looks out at the horizon. There’s a lot of sea. The Cloud Sea mist is thick above the water and the moon is just a thin slice in the sky. This part of Skyldin is just plains and hills and what looks to have been a marsh not so long ago, and he thinks he can spot Flamiis farther away on the field. He looks at this all and thinks, to himself since Ontos left his head,  _ it’s really time to change the subject. _

“There’s someone you should meet. Right now.” Malos doesn’t wait for Ontos to object, just jumps off the wagon and starts trekking over to three wagons parked in a cluster. Ontos follows him. There’s a red-white patterned fabric working as a ceiling and walls to one of the wagons, and Malos pulls back enough of it to awkwardly look inside. There’s a Gormotti woman with her two sleeping kids in one end of the wagon, and in the other Jin is curled up, halfway to sitting up, mask off, head lolling to the side and eyes closed. Malos can’t see his Core crystal, which means that nobody else has probably seen it either.

Malos climbs up in the wagon and puts a hand on Jin’s shoulder, shaking him as gently as he knows how. Jin wakes as gracefully as always, which is to say better than Malos, and sees Ontos. He rasps, “Who’s that?”

“My name is Ontos,” says Ontos serenely, looking over Malos’s shoulder. Jin gives Malos a flat look that he translates to,  _ really Malos? _ “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jin looks at Malos. Malos says, “This is Jin.”

Ontos says, “I haven’t been here for long. If you two could get me up to speed on recent politics and such I’d be most grateful.” He smiles wryly. Malos’s eyes cut to his throat, and the white crystal on a necklace he’s got there. It’s large, and shaped like Malos’s own, and it glows with an iridescent lustre. _If Ontos wasn’t here then where was he? And why would he come here at all? _This world, this Titan – did it matter which one? He shouldn’t be on either. Malos sounds pissed even in his own head.

“So why come here?” Malos asks again, keeping his voice casually curious.

Ontos looks at him and then he says. “I’m looking for Pneuma.”

Malos shares a look with Jin (and there’s no telepathy this time. Seems it’s really just Aegis-only). The name Pneuma sounds familiar in a very irritating way, but really? In this world he’s never heard of anyone named Pneuma. Maybe that information was in one of his memory files or Blade data that got corrupted and destroyed. And Jin doesn’t seem to have heard of Pneuma, either, so no dice. Ok then. “Alright,” he says. And then he doesn’t get the chance to find some other topic to argue about before Jin says,

“I see. Malos, can I talk to you privately?

“Sure.”

Jin starts to get up but Ontos says, “Oh I can move, don’t worry.” He starts walking away, humming again, and Malos sticks his head out of the wagon to see as he goes to chat with some Urayans. Ooh, so he’s the chatty type. Goddammit. He’s standing far away enough that Malos knows he won’t hear anything, in case that’s the kinda discussion Jin is going for. The Gormotti family they’re currently sharing the wagon with is still asleep, and Malos doubts they’d glean much from listening to him and Jin talk, anyway.

He lets the fabric flap fall shut and turns to look at his companion. “What’s the matter, Jin?”

“Ontos,” says Jin in that polite tone he’s got when there’s some minor inconvenience in his way. “Who is he?”

Malos stalls. Then he changes his mind and says bluntly, like ripping off a bandage, “He’s another Aegis.”

Jin leans back, and puts his face in his hands.

“I’m not sure we can trust him though,” Malos admits.

Jin doesn’t even answer. Fair enough.

“He showed up out of nowhere. Like where the fuck has he even been all this time if not in Alrest?” Malos vents at Jin. “A  _ third _ Aegis. Did Amalthus just leave him up in the World Tree?” If only Malos could remember a single damn thing from the World Tree… “…and who the hell is Pneuma?”

“Does Ontos…” Jin speaks up, “know about the war?”

“Don’t think so.”

“He could get in the way of our goal.”

They share a long look.  _ Then we’ll get rid of him _ , isn’t exactly an option. As much as Malos curses and rages and pretends he can’t feel it, hides his Core away, it’s still broken. He’s broken. He can’t use his own fucking sword, for pity’s sake! Everything involving Ether is a goddamn chore to do, and reaching any Artifice is just impossible. And Ontos is an unknown variable. They’ve never seen him before – who knows what things he’s capable of? Even worse that he doesn’t seem to work for anyone, or have any specific reason to stick around, or anything very specific and easy at all. They don’t know a single thing about his motives or his stance on recent events.

Though if they’re fortunate, Ontos won’t know his own stance on recent events either.

“We could let him travel with us for a while,” Malos offers.

Jin takes it. “Alright.”

“It’s not like we can fight in the middle of a camp this size.” (he could’ve, before. He would have.)

“Keep the details vague. Don’t tell him more than necessary.” Jin says and stares intently at Malos, and even without fancy Aegis-only telepathy he knows that they’re both thinking,  _ don’t tell Ontos about our goal _ . They can trust him not to kill them in their sleep, probably, but that’s only because he doesn’t know the full story. He’ll never know the full story. You just can’t get it unless you were on Torna, back before they sank it. So that’s not happening. 

Keeping quiet about shit can’t be that hard, anyway.

“He can stay, but we won’t tell him about what we’re doing.” Malos summarises.

Jin doesn’t reply but tilts his head in that way Malos is starting to guess that means,  _ I agree. _

It’s funny, figuring out Jin’s mannerisms. Figuring out anybody’s mannerisms at all. Having anybody around at all who he’d make the effort with. The monks in Indol were blank-faced all the time, Amalthus’s only mood is variations of hate, and then there really wasn’t anybody else Malos even got close to having a civil conversation with. Malos didn’t ever need to bother with anybody else’s emotions before: if they got mad, so fucking what? Malos could destroy anything, so what did anything even matter? Literally everything was hilariously insignificant back then.

It’s… strange. That he bothers so much with Jin. It isn’t at all, really, but if he compares  _ now _ to  _ then _ it just seems weird.

It’s nicer than he thought to have someone on his side.

Malos figures, while taking a last look at Jin before dropping out of the wagon again to hunt down Ontos from whatever trouble he’s talked himself into, that all in all, he’s  _ glad _ to have Jin here. Even if they’re both broken-down in their own private ways and mostly useless, at least they’re not completely alone in this terrible fucking world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha i'm finally starting to post this! more chapters coming, not sure how many yet, but i've got 21k words written so far :D  
anyway, spare me a kudos?


	2. Old Friend

The Skyldish Titan is shaped like an Aspar, or if you’re feeling like an asshole then you can just say it looks like a worm. The capital is located on its head, the only part of the Titan that is absolutely guaranteed to always be above the Cloud Sea, and along the whole rest of the Titan is a long, long winding road built. Along this road forests, small villages and plenty of fields can be found, plus a whole lot of marshes and swamps. Sometimes the ground moves, so that one part of the Titan becomes a hill and another part becomes submerged in about a ped of water and Cloud Sea sludge.

After leaving the crowd of travelling merchants and their families, Malos, Jin and Ontos set their sights on the capital city. Getting there is about two days of walking, and the whole first day of doing this Ontos quizzes the both of them relentlessly on the basics of life in Alrest.

“So humans, Blades and Nopon live together in harmony?” he asks, at one instance, and Malos and Jin share this weary look of ‘can you believe this fucking guy?’ before Jin takes on the task of answering.

“Humans, Blades and Titans, the saying goes. And Nopon too, I suppose. Alrest is however often plagued by wars and land disputes and famine, among other things… ‘Harmony’ is more of a saying, really.”

“Hmm,” Ontos hums, and Malos thinks he’s frowning slightly.

Well fuck, dude. The world is what it is - and wherever Ontos is from can hardly be  _ that _ superior to Alrest. He can get right off his high horse.

Eventually Ontos ceases with his questions and starts humming a song instead. It’s not the most annoying thing Malos has ever heard and Jin doesn't seem to mind, so Malos says nothing about it.

When they make camp Malos gets a little fire going, asks whether Ontos can keep an eye on it, and then Jin tells Malos what herbs and vegetables he’ll need before taking his sword and stalking off toward where a pair of Rhoguls have sat down on a cliff. Meanwhile, Malos starts wandering around the meadow they’ve stopped at, looking for the requested plants. He finds most of them and even a few additional mystery plants, which he picks anyway and brings with him in case Jin can identify and use them.

Ontos has taken off his overcoat and laid it on the ground to sit on, and when Malos returns with his foraged ingredients he’s looking thoughtfully up at the World Tree, which glows noticeably in the darkness after sunset. 

“Enjoying the view?” Malos says.

“It’s quite a spectacular construction,” Ontos says mildly.

Soon Jin returns with a lump of Rhogul meat, that he prepares and slices into a lot of smaller chunks which he then spears on three sticks along with the vegetables and one of the mystery plants, and then all three of them have to sit and hold their stick over the fire for a long while. That said, the food tastes completely fine. Jin knows how to make do with almost nothing.

After eating they stomp out the fire and prepare to go to sleep. Out here on this open field there’s no way to hide from the light of the World Tree, even though they made camp next to a cliff jutting out of the grassland. Luckily the only wildlife around are a few Pippito and some kind of bird that keeps flying in circles above a distant forest, so sleeping out here shouldn’t be dangerous, at least. Malos still has very vivid memories of that time they accidentally made camp next to an Aspar nest.

Malos and Jin put their cloaks on the ground, take off their armour, and lie down back to back, sharing a blanket. Ontos lies down on his own coat nearby them, and when Malos closes his eyes he can hear Ontos softly humming yet another melody. This one is slower, almost halting in places, almost lonely, and Malos doesn’t get to hear how it ends as he’s already asleep by then.

* * *

The capital and biggest city in Skyldin is called Höst and is, predictably, located on the serpentine Titan’s head, where a truly ridiculously big harbour makes up half of the town. The rest is made up of picturesque houses out of timber and stone, which are then either red, white or yellow depending on your class. This is quite obviously, judging by the many, many fishermen, a place where you eat fish every day of every week. This is a place where children learn to fish and salvage before learning to read. This is a place from which ships going to all kinds of countries set sail every day (sometimes to bring back fish) which thus makes this city ideal for disappearing in.

When they step through the city gates early in the afternoon, the first thing Ontos says is, “What are you two planning to do next?”

Malos thinks. “We’re going to Uraya,” he then decides on the spot, right there and then, because there’s fuck-all to do in Gormott, in Genbu they’re too busy starting up an isolationist society, going to Indol would at best be uncomfortable and at worst suicide, Torna is gone, Coeia is gone too, and Temperantia is a terrible wasteland… they were recently in Mor Ardain… and all in all, Fonsa Myma is a nice little town for everybody to mind their own fucking business in.

“Sounds nice,” Ontos says.

“It’s a very beautiful country,” Jin offers vaguely, which means he agrees with Malos’s decision. Good.

“Let’s get on a ship,” Malos says.

They head toward the harbour half of the city, strolling down to the docks through the narrow streets lined with greenery. As they go, Ontos looks at everything curiously, waves or nods greetings at passer-bys, and Malos isn’t exactly about to stop him, but  _ seriously _ ? He’s really gotta do that? Really?

Jin then finds them a captain who’s about to head to Uraya and they pay her to take the three of them with her, which means they all pick a nice spot to sit up on the deck, and that Ontos starts to curiously watch the Cloud Sea instead of the people. It’s a clear sunny day, and in the far, far distance, Malos can see the World Tree. He scowls reflexively.

The World Tree is quite a sight, but Malos has too many blanks in his memory associated with it to be able to appreciate the view.

“Everyone aboard!” the captain hollers, from the back of the ship. “We’re setting off for Uraya in a minute! Everyone, hurry up!”

The Titan pulling their ship makes a deep, rumbling sound in response to this, and quickly humans start fussing back and forth about the ship and the cargo, stowing on a last few crates and passengers. Ontos stays put, watching the clouds in quiet, and Jin leans into Malos, just a little, hood hiding his Core crystal thoroughly, safely. And so Malos leans against the railing, confident that for now, this exact moment, nobody will pick a fight with them, nobody will even notice them, and he closes his eyes and lets his hood fall back, a ray of sunlight warming his upturned face as he exhales.

A last yell, a last couple of orders, and then the Titan ship leaves port.

* * *

It’s well into the evening when they’re back on proper Titan soil, getting off the ship at the tiny harbour in Fonsa Myma. As far as Malos can remember, most Urayans were insufferable Addam supporters in the war, but beggars can’t be choosers, right, and the food’s supposed to be decent here. Anything’s better than what the Ardainians pretend is ‘cuisine’ though, so that’s a given.

Ontos is, to absolutely nobody’s great surprise, delighted by this new city to explore. He drags them over to market stalls displaying paintings and asks for their opinions, and as soon as he gets to talking to the vendors and artists themselves, Ontos comes up with a whole slew of  _ other _ questions he then asks to Malos and Jin as they make their way uptown.

“Your world is composed of so many Titans, yet you all speak the same language?” Ontos asks as they’re climbing a set of steps, Malos walking in front.

“It’s been many thousands of years of trade among us,” Jin answers patiently. “Eventually, I assume that using one single language seemed… easier.”

“You have only one currency as well?”

“Pardon?”

“G. Is it not what you use to pay for goods?”

“Yes…” Jin says slowly. “Why would there be two different… currencies? We all use G.”

“Hm,” Ontos says, sounding amused. Malos sneaks a glance back at them, and he’s smiling inexplicably. “Your world is quite small.”

“Hey,” Malos says, offended without having a good reason to be. “You’ve seen bigger, or what?”

“I’ve seen many things you could hardly imagine, Malos,” Ontos says serenely.

Then there’s a couple of guards in their way, so Malos pulls them all discreetly onto a side-street and doesn’t reply. They need to get an inn room somewhere and go the fuck to sleep. Malos is sure they double the guards at night in Fonsa Myma, just like in all other goddamn fledgling baby cities they’ve been in, and who knows who could be watching.

The oblivion of sleep and some relief for his aching shoulder are also strong motivators, not that Malos would ever admit that to anyone.

They climb back up from their alley onto flatter ground, and what do we have, over there, next to a little shop, is an inn. There’s also a lot of construction workers crawling over a skeleton of a house next to it, and past this flat muddy yard there’s only fields and a bunch of sad-looking huts. This place really does not have a proper downtown, huh.

Maybe in a few hundred years this place’ll be buzzing.

They pay for a room, and Malos notes that dammit, they’re almost out of money again. The constant need for G is so tedious, how the hell do humans stand it?

The room they got has two bunk beds. Ontos gets one for himself while Jin and Malos take the other, and they bustle quietly around the room, stripping out of their armour, while Ontos kicks off his boots and drapes his coat over the back of a chair. At his throat the crystal gleams ominously, and Malos tries to reach out almost before he realises it - but of course he can’t sense that crystal, dumbass, it’s not like he can feel  _ any  _ Core, really - and who said that that’s even Ontos’s Core, hm? Ontos might not even be a Blade.

Though the thought of him being  _ human _ disgusts Malos on some level.

He’s the third Aegis, that’s that, end of story, time to go to bed. Malos takes the upper bed, closes his eyes and passes out.

* * *

The thing with Fonsa Myma is that it is, to put it bluntly, a pretty shitty little town. It’s got the  _ suggestion  _ of grandeur, like all the unfinished noble houses and building plans, but in reality it’s just a small hovel of a town stacked on a very steep hill. The view’s, admittedly, far better here than in Alba Cavanich though, all sweeping mountain trails, endless plains of clear blue water and the softly glowing trees dotting the landscape.

Jin stops for a moment as they’re walking just to look at it, or so Malos presumes, and - it’s not half bad, he supposes. It’s dark and damp but well, that’s basically their elements right here, aren’t they? 

If it would make Jin feel better, Malos would move to a field of ice constantly tormented by blizzards without hesitation.

(Malos is very much a ‘do it  _ very much _ or don’t do it at all’ kind of guy, as he’s starting to realise.)

“You said something about breakfast?” Ontos gently interrupts.

They go find a café, depleting their money reserves even further by buying pastries and beverages. There are no other customers at the café, but a few people are moving about anyway, hustling around like them humans do, crossing the road and buying meat from the butcher’s next door. Malos and Jin keep their hoods up and one eye on the road, both of them watching warily, but still Malos can’t pinpoint exactly who saw him first.

Jin makes a little noise at the exact same moment as Malos gapes and curses, and the both of them stare in sullen disbelief at  _ Minoth _ , the wily old bastard, who’s stopped to read some poster on a message board across the road. He’s still got that stupid fucking ponytail.

“Hmm?” Ontos wonders.

“Fuck,” Malos says, and hunches a little further into his chair, silently composing a heartfelt thank you speech to every weaver in Alrest who contributed to inventing cloaks with hoods.

“Just an old friend,” Jin explains absently, and pulls down his hood.

Malos says, “What do you think?” and looks at Jin, who looks back, and they share a little bit of wordless telepathy-less conversation with their eyes, which Malos nevertheless understands much better than anything Ontos has ever said.

Why on Gormott’s green fucking fields is Minoth _ here? _ Why is he even out and about,  _ at all? _

No other way to know than to ask.

“I could talk to him,” Jin suggests, but he sounds especially unhappy about it.

“If you’d rather wring his neck, I understand completely,” Malos says. “You don’t need to bother talking to him.”

“Yes…” Jin says slowly, frowning. “I am aware. That said, talking to Minoth could be…”

“Useful?”

Jin’s silence speaks for itself, and they probably would’ve worked through another thirty seconds of eye-to-eye debate, if it wasn’t for how they both suddenly notice that Ontos has  _ disappeared.  _ At first he’s nowhere to be seen, but then Malos realises that oh no, he just wasn’t being pessimistic enough about their existence, and quickly glances back at Minoth. Who of-fucking-course is being approached by a dumbass with platinum hair and a really unfortunate curious streak, and Malos says, “Dam _ mit,” _ and then Jin looks over too.

Internally, Malos is screaming quite a lot, but on the outside he hopefully looks like generic human bastard #3 and not like the personification of the Architect’s worst mistake itself, and even Jin manages to lose his shit so coolly and quietly that Malos barely notices.

“Ah,” he says. “I - I think I’ll have to do something about this. Malos, head back to the inn.”

Well, Malos sure isn’t going to say  _ no _ to fleeing the scene.

He stands up, squeezes Jin’s shoulder carefully on his way around the table,  _ I’m trusting you with this, _ Minoth’s less likely to murder Jin than him, and goes.

* * *

His mind is sharp, almost as sharp as his swordsmanship - used to be. He hasn’t fought in a hundred days, a hundred weeks. Nothing feels heavier than the stolen heart in his chest. Though seeing Minoth sure stirs up  _ something. _

On the other side of the square, Ontos says something to Minoth, and Minoth replies, making a gesture to punctuate. And on his own side of the square, when Malos is gone, Jin stands up. He smooths out his cloak, ignores the sting of pain as he begins moving, and walks across the square and up to the two of them.

“Hi there,” Ontos says, mindlessly casual as usual.

“Hello you too,” Jin says, letting the Tornan accent really seep into it, and tilts his head just a little, looks Minoth right in the eye.

The satisfaction of seeing Minoth stagger burns out too fast.

_ “Jin?” _ he says, confused but trying to seem collected. “You’re…” his eyes flick to Jin’s forehead.

Jin raises a hand and pushes his hair aside, letting the sickly red of his Core show for just a moment.

“Ah,” Minoth says. His face is very sombre when he says, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jin swallows down the rage, the fury, the poison in his throat, and says nothing.

“And in the end, we both ended up Flesh Eaters.” Minoth laughs. Jin thinks about how a sword would feel in his hand right now. The weight of it, the ridges in the hilt. The slight resistance as you push is through flesh. The force you need for it to go through bone.

And Ontos watches them both, eyes suddenly too  _ watchful _ to mean anything good.

For a moment, Jin thinks that they’ll come to blows. That this is how it ends. But then Minoth sags a little and says, “They got Haze, you know.”

“I know.” Jin does know. It’s not exactly difficult to figure out what happened to the others at Spessia, after all,  _ is it. _

“No, no,” Minoth says. “You don’t understand. They completely - Amalthus has brainwashed her or something. She calls herself ‘Fan la Norne’ nowadays, and her Core… he’s split it.”

Oh, Haze. Oh, their dreams.

Jin finds he’s got nothing to say, after all.

Fortunately, Ontos does. “This sounds like a bit of a long story,” he interjects mildly. “Say Cole, why don’t you tag along to our inn room? Share supper with us?”

Jin thinks,  _ Cole? _

And Minoth says, “Well… I might as well.”

* * *

When they get back to the inn, Jin makes Ontos and Minoth wait on the stairs in the corridor while he goes to warn Malos that they’ve got company. He’s sitting on one of the beds and reading but when Jin enters he immediately puts down his book and gets up, and they meet in the middle of the room. “Ontos brought him with us,” Jin tells him, keeping his voice hushed but not managing to stop himself from sounding annoyed.

“What?” Malos says.

“Minoth’s waiting outside with Ontos.” Jin doesn’t know how to feel about it, besides annoyed, but now that he’s back in the inn, it’s starting to look like quite a bad idea. Actually.

Since he’s here with Malos. Not that being here with Malos is a bad idea in itself, but Minoth won’t react well to seeing him. Maybe especially not, if Jin’s standing next to him.

Jin  _ should’ve _ reacted badly to seeing Malos in Mor Ardain, that day. If he’d had the energy for it, if he’d had enough emotions to do it, had anything other than bleak nothingness. Jin knows he’d just have sat back and let someone kill him in that alley, that day, if anyone had tried to. That’s how beaten-down he was. Then Malos stumbled upon him, instead, and the brief burn of anger Jin got from seeing him was enough to get him to take Malos’s hand and stand up.

Something, anything, to make him thaw just enough to move again. For Lora’s sake.

That’s what got them  _ started,  _ got Jin started, but now, today, he is undeniably allied with Malos. He trusts him, far more than he’d trust Minoth, and…

Yeah, Jin should perhaps not have brought Minoth here. Maybe there’s still time to get him to go...

Meanwhile, in the present, Malos says, “Aaghhh,” and rubs a hand across his face.

He’s in his underarmour, cloak put aside, and Jin feels compelled to touch him at this display of almost human frustration - so he does. The same shoulder touch Malos gave him back at the café, on the shoulder Jin knows he doesn’t have trouble with. It’s supposed to be just a brief thing, but then they lock eyes and Jin finds himself saying, like he’s found himself saying many  _ things _ to Malos over the past few months, “Amalthus has Haze. My - friend. He’s twisted her.”

“Haze?” Malos asks, hand falling from his face.

“Lora’s second Blade,” Jin says, calmly, coolly, like this isn’t the first time he’s said _ her _ name in months. Like this thing in his chest doesn't feel like an overripe fruit being squeezed. “Amalthus has got his claws in her, and her Core’s been split-”

Malos turns away with a curse. “This, things like  _ this, _ this is exactly why humanity doesn’t deserve to survive-”

“Amalthus is clearly the worst of them all,” Jin snaps, feeling a sudden - protectiveness. At least Lora and the Tornans had some fucking  _ respect _ for Blade Rights-

Uncharacteristically, Malos doesn’t answer. Jin has only a second to wonder whether Malos’s Driver is still a sore spot, whether this is one of those landmine subjects they always avoid, before Ontos opens the door, stepping inside with Minoth in tow.

“Everything alright?” Ontos asks neutrally.

“Yes,” both Jin and Malos snap, and then Minoth very visibly spots Malos.

_ “You,” _ he says, and look, he’s still got his old gun-knives.

“Seriously?” Malos demands and throws up his hands. “Calm the fuck down, do I look armed to you?”

Minoth spits, “You’re the Aegis; you don’t need a weapon.”

“Fuck off,” Malos says, and pulls off his shirt, which in no way makes him look less intimidating but makes his broken Core crystal clearly visible. They all look at his chest, even Jin, though admittedly his Core is not the only reason Jin’s looking.

Ontos shakes his head. Minoth says something underneath his breath. Jin makes sure to look away before Malos can catch his eye.

“Haze,” Jin says, tiredly. “As I was saying…”

“This Haze,” Ontos interjects. “Could you two not free her?”

_ Free her? _

“You think they’ve even tried?” Minoth says. “You think they even  _ knew _ of it before I told them?”

“Of course we haven’t tried,” Jin says sharply. “‘Free her’? We’re  _ weak _ . Malos’s Core is broken and I - and I’m a  _ Flesh Eater. _ Indol is a death-trap for people like us, and you know it.”

“It’s suicide to even try,” Malos growls.

Ontos says, “I’m an Aegis. I could help you.”

_ “You’re  _ an Aegis?” Minoth demands, turning to him now. He’s still got his gun-knives in hand.

Jin tries not to pay attention to Malos putting his shirt back on, and focuses on Ontos serenely saying, “Indeed I am.”

“And you’d really help us infiltrate Indol?” Jin asks, for the hell of it.

It’s dangerous, to get your hopes up.

“Of course,” Ontos says.

“Hah.”

Why? What are his motives? What reason does he have for tagging along with them, except for some imagined connection Aegis-to-Aegis? You do not help your brother overthrow a government simply because you share blood, after all. The Tornan royalty certainly proved that.

“Why?” Malos asks.

“Why  _ shouldn’t _ I help you save this Haze?” Ontos sounds perfectly innocent, cocking his head and spreading his hands.

Minoth hasn’t let go off his weapons yet, but his expression is very pinched, like he’s hearing exactly what he wants but sure as hell doesn’t trust it. Jin knows his faces, after all.

Jin and Malos share another long look, which ends by Malos conceding ground to Jin by tilting his head tinily to the side. (It had surprised Jin, at first, how little Malos actually wanted to be in charge) 

And what, what else is there he can do except realise, that they might as well make some plans and scout Indol a little. No matter how foolish it is to hope, the simple fact is, that this is a marvellous chance they’ve got here. Isn’t like they’ll ever get a better chance to snoop around in the Praetorium with enough firepower to escape the gallows if it comes to that, ever again. It’s been just a few decades since the war ended, and the Praetor won’t be expecting this attack. At all. 

And even if none of them can agree with Minoth on anything, at least here, in this, they’d be united by a common goal.

“Minoth,” he begins, and is immediately interrupted.

Petulantly he says, “I go by Cole, now.”

Okay then. “Cole,” Jin says. “Are you coming with us to Indol?”

“You’re actually doing it?” Cole asks, looking at Jin’s face. Whatever he sees must be enough, because then he says, “To hell with it. I’m in.”

“Seriously?” Malos asks again all snidely. Jin can’t exactly blame him, but still. “Just like that you’re agreeing? We’re most likely going to fail and be executed, there’s no point-”

“You think I  _ care about that? _ ” Cole doesn’t yell, doesn’t even raise his voice or make a move, but his eyes are flaming and for a second he looks truly ready to- “I’ve  _ lost everything. _ We all - we lost the war. We lost  _ all of Torna thanks to you. _ So if there’s even a chance I can save Haze, then I’m damn well going to take it. Even if it means going in with your mass-murdering ass for back-up.”

They glower at each other like they’re still on opposite sides of the Aegis War, and to Jin’s mind comes the question,  _ if there’s no way we’ll succeed then why are  _ you _ in for this, Malos? _

Then again. He thinks he might know the answer.

They’ve been on the road together for almost five years, after all.

“Well,” Ontos says, curiously. “I’m sure there’s an interesting story here…?”

“There was a war,” Jin says. “We were on opposite sides.”

“The end,” Malos adds gruffly, before turning to face the other Aegis. “And Ontos, I take it you have no problems with killing people?”

“It depends,” Ontos says serenely.

“Good enough,” Malos says. “Jin?”

“We’ll go to the harbour tomorrow and catch a ship to Indol first thing in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, but my real question is why there's only one language in Alrest.  
anyway, updates on Saturdays! i'm gonna try and stick with that


	3. Alone and Sublime

There’s a tiny round window in their Urayan inn room, letting in the glow of the trees from outside. There are no dawns or sunsets in Uraya and Malos can’t tell what time it is when he wakes up, only that Jin, Ontos and Cole still are asleep. When it is almost completely silent, like now, and if he focuses, then Malos can actually sense Jin’s and Cole’s Cores. In this kind of silence, Malos finally feels as if he’s… escaped something. As if there’s nothing he has to do. As if he could look at things from the bright side today, or try something new...

And then Cole woke up, and everything just went downhill from there.

Cole honestly didn’t have to be so _ loud _ about his general displeasure at existence and seeing Malos’s face, and it honestly _ was _ mostly Cole’s fault, the whole argument, Cole can go screw himself, but does it even matter now anyway when they’ve gotten themselves thrown out of the inn already and Jin won’t speak to Malos? The morning’s ruined either way.

“What’s the matter with you two?” Ontos asks, sternly. “Will you two behave yourselves on the ship?”

“We’re fine, it’s fine,” Malos growls in answer, yanking down the hood of his cloak. “Weren’t we supposed to head for the harbour first thing? Jin, what do you say?”

Jin doesn’t answer. Malos feels like he deserves the sting he feels at that, even as it makes him scowl..

“I’m sure we can keep it together for just long enough to save Haze,” Cole says snidely to Ontos.

“Good,” Ontos says. “Jin, what’s the plan?” 

“We’re going to have to kill her Driver,” Jin answers.

“And who-” Malos begins.

“It’s Amalthus,” Cole finishes, like Malos didn’t realise that by him-fucking-self as soon as he opened his mouth.

_ Kill Amalthus. _ The thought sits ugly and bitter in him, but Malos knows there’s no way around it or out of it. They’ll have to kill that old bastard. The fact that he’s also Malos’s Driver is just a coincidence that doesn’t matter at all, in the end, in any way or form - look at Cole. That fucker sure doesn’t give jackshit about him, and he’s not even an Aegis.

Aegises can function just fine without Drivers.

Malos knows this.

-and he hates him, doesn’t he.

Then Jin says, “Malos-”

And Malos quickly says, “Then let’s go to the harbour already, chop chop,” and that’s it. That’s their plan.

* * *

Most of the things that Malos do are inevitably things he’s never done before. This is the first time he’s walked on the Titans of Alrest under its blue skies, the first time he’s been awakened, the first miserable life he’s been living. Aegises don’t return to their Cores either way, Malos knows. There’s a lot of things he _ knows, _ actually, even though most of his useful memories and knowledge got destroyed by Mythra’s final blow. He hasn’t been awakened for very long, not even thirty years, and yet- he’s wreaked so much havoc. In fact he might very well be the single most destructive force that there’s ever been in Alrest or will ever be; he’s felled several Titans...

Yet this is the only time he’s _ hesitated _ over the thought of taking a life.

He’s disgusted to feel it because of _ Amalthus _ . That slimy conspiring liar sure doesn’t deserve it, but Malos can’t- he’s got to make a choice, he’s gotta pick. Is it bad to ever hesitate at all? Or is it bad that Malos never hesitated _ before? _ Which one is it? There’s consequences to both that he doesn’t want to face but he’s gotta pick-

Where’s all that righteous fury, that thing that’s carrying Cole forward, when one needs it? 

Their plan isn’t just to break into the Praetorium to save one fucking Blade, what the hell does that have to do with their promise, their cause, their whole plan? Killing the Architect is the goal here. Killing Amalthus… is at best a step in the same path. He’s standing in their way, so he has to be killed. This can be justified as a logical step.

-But picking up Ontos made their whole plan unbalanced; and adding Cole to the mix too? The sooner they're rid of him, the better.

Malos doesn’t understand what Jin sees in Cole.

At least he’ll get to strangle Cole once they’re done. It’s an _ immensely _ satisfying thought even though he knows he won’t really do it; Jin would hate it. And the thing is that Malos won’t know what to do if Jin leaves him. Really though, why should Jin stay for Malos? Why _ would _ he? Malos – usually doesn’t think about this. It’s not an immediate concern, he’s got other things to think about, like money issues and infiltrating Indol, and he loves Jin but there’s not a single goddamn reason for why Jin should love him back, and honestly, ignoring things has been a pretty great idea so far.

If you can’t deal with it now, then deal with it later.

Like Ontos. He has to be dealt with somehow, someway; he’s an Aegis with no Driver, who knows what his agenda is? He has to be dealt with. But not today, not now; today they’re heading to Indol on a mission.

* * *

Two Aegises and two Flesh Eaters get on a boat, all disguised as humans. They let Ontos pay the captain the standard fee for everyone who’s traveling to Indol, and then all four of them find a nice and quiet corner to lay low in, where Malos takes the opportunity to talk them through the layout of Indol. “It’s not a big Titan,” he begins. “And the fucking citadel takes up most of it, but to begin with there’s also the city and the docks. Everything’s built like a slope leading up to the Praetorium, and they’ve got plenty of guards around, so do _ not _draw attention to yourself.”

Malos knows a back entrance or two into the Praetorium, because the monks sure do like their cellars, so it’s best if first they all follow him inside. They can split up once they’re in. The cathedral is a lot bigger than you’d believe from just looking at the outside, so they’ll probably be forced to split up if they want to have a chance of finding anything in that maze. Having to maybe fight off a bunch of warrior monks by yourself would be a hell of a task though, and while Malos couldn’t give less of a shit about Cole or even Ontos…

He glances at Jin, who’s doing his ‘I’m-concentrating’ blank face. 

Jin is pretty powerful. Malos has fought him, and Jin is neither inexperienced nor unlucky in the power department. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s just one Blade unused to fighting without a Driver, though, which is not good.

And he hasn’t fought since-

Since he lost his Driver? Malos hasn’t directly asked, but he’s pretty sure of the answer anyway.

But Jin’s quiet and knows how to move near soundlessly. If they stick to the shadows and use back entrances and avoid humans, then it’ll just have to fucking work. The odds and the Architect be damned, they are getting through this with victory. No use worrying about warrior monks now. He just has to trust Jin to watch his own back, he’s been doing it for years now already, he’ll be fine, dammit.

Some kids on the boat start to yell when the Indoline Titan becomes visible on the horizon, and grimly they watch as it draws nearer and nearer. It’s a Titan made out of marble, not a single tree nor strand of grass on it that hasn’t been deliberately planted there. Not a single inch of it that isn’t weaponized in some subtle, overly pretentious way, from the sterile white walls to the military sharp street corners and whatever it is they’re doing beneath the cathedral that Amalthus refused to elaborate on.

Malos never cared much about it then, and he doesn’t care much now either. Finding out more about it could still be useful, however: at some point they might have to go to war with Indol. It’s the sort of thing that slowly becomes more and more inevitable, the tension building up until it explodes.

Malos knows some things about war.

“You said this place holds some religious significance?” Ontos asks curiously, as the ship gets waved permission to dock.

“Only if you give a shit,” Malos replies, already tired of the place. Really, now thinking about it with hindsight, those Tornan folks’ religion wasn’t so bad.

(but there’s nothing he can do about having destroyed it, so it’s better to keep on ignoring that it ever existed. Ignorance has, after all, worked this far)

“I see,” Ontos says.

“It’s a country ruled by priests,” Cole says. “Make of that what you will.”

The ship docks, and people start moving. Malos and the others rise and follow the crowd down onto the pier, and once they’ve got their feet on the blessed white tiles of Indol, Malos leads them to a second-hand clothes shop first thing. You can get robes that look like what the low-ranking monks wear pretty cheap, and even if it _ was _ expensive, Malos wouldn’t let them even go _ near _ the bowels of the cathedral without disguises anyway, so robes they get. Ontos somehow manages to pull off the look flawlessly, and after stuffing Cole’s ponytail firmly into his hood even he manages to look almost priestly.

Enough to pass for a novice monk from Skyldin, anyway. Their lack of blue skin should be enough to make all the elitists ignore them just fine.

“Good enough,” Malos says, as they stand in the alley next to the clothes store, all of them clad in the stuffy white robes. “When we get inside, act like a monk. Don’t talk to anyone. Keep your heads down, move quickly, and don’t engage unless it’s absolutely necessary. Getting caught could mean death.”

_ Or worse, _ he doesn’t need to add. They know.

Ontos doesn’t, maybe, but he’ll catch on quick.

Malos takes the lead out on the streets, avoiding the recently established refugee camps on the lower levels and the gallows in Poldis Circle, quickly starting to ascend the steps. And the closer they get, taking a side staircase and slipping beneath the courtyard through a maintenance tunnel, the less Malos finds he worries. The stress about Cole, Ontos and Jin almost… dissipates.

He’s the Aegis again. He’s here to kill; something’s he’s skilled at and familiar with. Just another obstacle to remove from his path. 

Just like every time before.

They enter the Praetorium cellars from a maintenance tunnel entrance, by a door Amalthus had Malos use once to avoid suspicion. In the cellars the lights are dim or absent, but otherwise everything is built from the exact same white stone as above ground; tough but breakable if you’re willing to work.

They don’t need to.

Using his perfect memory as guide, Malos finds all the right doors exactly where they were twenty or so years ago, and with all the corridors and rooms behind them the same. They meet a monk only once, and when they do all of them simply bow in greeting like novices in the Praetorium do and then they hurry onward. Malos heads for the stairs, Jin following close behind him - and Malos has never had a partner before, right. 

He stops to wait at a corner for Ontos and Cole to catch up, just a moment, and around the next corner there’s the stairs. Spiraling upwards into the Praetorium, to the throne room and the antechambers - or down, into whatever mysteries the monks are hiding deep inside the Titan.

“We’re splitting up,” Malos decides grimly, looking at the group as they stand clustered by the stairs, all their faces shadowed by their hoods.

“Cole and I will search for Haze,” Jin says, softly but firmly.

“Then I and Ontos take the Praetor,” Malos agrees. “We’ll meet outside. There’s an inn, Elnatauro’s, should be easy to find.”

“I’ll see you then,” Jin says, and it hits Malos that this is almost like saying goodbye. He’s never really done it properly before, and he immediately decides he hates it. Jin’s going to go off on an incredibly dangerous expedition into the depths of Indol with only _ Cole _as backup, and here Malos stands. Doing nothing to stop that.

He raises a hand and, eventually, pulls Jin into a one-armed hug. He turns his face into Jin’s neck and says, “Good luck.”

Jin nods, withdraws, and then he and Cole begin to climb down the stairs, down into the unknown.

And Malos breathes slowly in and out, and flexes his empty hand. 

No swords for him, today.

He turns back to the stairs, Ontos behind him, and starts climbing.

* * *

The audience chamber of the Indoline Praetorium has a very high ceiling and a vast floor pieced together out of polished white tile, with only a tiny scrap of mat in front of the throne. If you as much as scrape your boot on the floor, the sound of it echoes in the whole hall, not dampened whatsoever by the few thin banners high up on the walls.

Fortunately, not a single soul is in there when Malos takes a cautious peek through an open door, so they get to continue climbing stairs up to the residences instead.

Ontos is, for once, dead silent. Malos appreciates it immensely, especially seeing as he’s never been up in this particular tower before. Though he knows where to go anyway. The place Amalthus always coveted: the Praetor's chambers.

(Even in Skyldin and Mor Ardain you couldn’t escape the news that a new Indoline Praetor had come into power.)

The door, once they reach the little alcove at the top of the stairs, is closed. It’s the only door in the little alcove, made from a light wood and with intricately carved decorations on it. And it stops Malos in his tracks, because behind that door - should he knock or knock it down - is his Driver. The source of that feeling like a hook’s in his skin, pulling at it until it bleeds.

Malos sets his jaw and says, “This is it.”

Ontos reaches out and pushes the door open, and they enter.

* * *

It’s dark beneath the cathedral, and Jin and Cole stick to the shadows warily, moving slowly. Until at last there’s no choice other than a brightly lit corridor lined with doors, monks hurrying to and fro, and Jin takes a moment to remind himself that if he needs to it’d only take a second before he’d have his nodachi in hand. Even though that’d likely not help him, he’d still have it, which is of some comfort. And after thinking that he steps out, and starts walking.

Cole wordlessly follows, and takes the first door on the left. Jin enters right without being stopped by anyone, and from this moment on he’s on his own.

In the room he enters he finds crates upon crates, tidily stacked in a corner, and a grey-robed servant in the process of packing another crate. They bow hastily when Jin enters, and when he says nothing they go back to packing these… vials of blue liquid into the crate. 

Jin doesn’t have the time to investigate. In the back of the room there’s another door, unlocked, and he goes through that one and comes out into a smaller, darker, shabbier corridor. With many more doors to investigate, as he begins to systematically do.

Thankfully the only humans around here are servants, who are too busy to pay him any mind.

He finds a few more rooms full of crates, and carefully opens a few to check - vials of blue liquid, books, and one that held lifeless Core crystals. Maybe twenty of them, all grey and dead.

The fury that welled up his in throat felt much like bile, and he stood frozen there for a long moment, before forcing himself to move again. There’s no way for him to steal that many, and even if he did that, where would he put them-

He’s here for Haze.

Jin shakes the feeling off and moves on to the next door, and behind it he finds a prison.

* * *

His Driver stands up from a desk when they enter. He’s wearing the heavy Praetor’s robes but not the hat, and he looks surprised, but not as surprised as he ought to. Must have been the link’s fault, the only thing transmitting between them a nasty feeling of foreboding. The tension between finally brought to the edge, the end.

“Malos-” Amalthus says, and then Ontos draws his sword.

It’s beautiful: a Monado made of silvery light, glowing with Ether; a large broadsword that Ontos still holds easily with one hand.

Fuck, Malos feels jealous. He wants _ his _sword back.

“What is this?” Amalthus demands, then, changing tracks from sly and superior to affronted, aggressive. Malos can _ see _ him trying to figure this out, find a way to manipulate the situation, and Malos snaps-

“He’s the Driver, Ontos. Kill him.”

“Well then,” Ontos says, and moves forward just two steps, moving his sword in an easy arc through the air, as if it weighs absolutely nothing and is only made of light, and then the edge of it slices through Amalthus’s middle like he’s made of butter. The clinical, analytical, truly a _ weapon _ part of Malos only notes how Ontos didn’t slice him all the way through, but that Amalthus will be dead in seconds anyway, the blood loss will be fatal instantly, what a smooth blow-

And then Malos feels the affinity link _ breaking, _ the hook ripped out of him by force, and he needs to take a moment, he needs to take a fucking breath.

* * *

The place is still familiar enough to Cole, familiar enough for him to rule out a bunch of rooms and sections. Haze won’t be in any of them. She’d maybe - possibly - be housed in his old quarters, but he’d rather she wasn’t, so first he checks a few other Blade quarters down here. He stays clear of doors he doesn’t recognise, and mimics all the monks he’s observed, and in his head he’s writing a little piece about a hero taken captive by a warlord, but who’s determined to escape to go home to his beloved…

Haze isn’t in any of the Blade quarters in the basement, he’s soon forced to realise. Unless, of course… she’s in his old room.

Cole sighs, and turns around.

He feels uncomfortably sweaty underneath the robes as he walks, and his Ether feels more off than usual, and it’s with a grim bitterness that he acknowledges that _ that _ feeling, ladies and gentlemen, is because of _ nostalgia. _ Walking the same old way back to his same old room, and somewhere up above him, his Driver - no, _ former _ Driver - is hopefully getting murdered right about now, and Cole hurries up-

He knows where he’s going and thanks to the monk’s clothes everyone ignores him as he hurries past, so it’s but a moment until he’s coming up outside of his old room, stopping only to open the door, and then peeking inside.

It’s been repainted. Someone’s brought in a bunch of flowers. And there’s a new bed, too, on which Haze, _ really Haze, _sweet lovely Haze, is sitting and knitting something with peach-coloured yarn.

Cole really didn’t think he’d get this far.

He clears his throat where a lump’s gotten stuck. “My lady,” he begins, haphazardly, making it up as he goes, and steps inside the room. “I have… a matter of extreme urgency to discuss with you. If you’d be so kind.”

“Oh?” says Haze mildly, and looks up at him blankly. No recognition in her warm brown eyes, the ones he’d met over a campfire a hundred times. “Do take a seat then. Might I offer you some tea while we wait for my Driver?”

His temper surges like a wave, but Cole forces it all back with a strained smile and bites out, “I don’t think that’s necessary-”

-and then there’s a flash of blue-white, glowing bright for three seconds in which Haze only has the time to frown and open her mouth-

-and then there’s a little _ clink _ as half a Core and a knitting needle hit the floor.

* * *

The first three cells are empty, only shadows and dust within them.

The fourth has a corpse. Jin can’t tell how old it is, but it smells dreadful.

And in the fifth sits a teenage boy, hunched over with his arms over his knees and head atop them.

“Hello?” Jin tries, checking for any response, praying that the kid isn’t dead too - and then the teenager looks up at him sharply, and Jin freezes, doesn’t even breathe.

“What?” demands the teen- _ him, _ Mikhail, little Mik, lost in Spessia.

Jin swallows, opens his mouth, swallows again and says, “Mikhail?”

Mikhail doesn’t answer, only tenses, and Jin’s pushing back his hood almost before deciding upon it. Such a foolish action. But one of the only things Jin has left is his heart, _ Lora’s _ heart, can he be blamed for letting it tug him into _ doing _ something, for once?

It’s worth it for the way Mikhail scrambles up from the floor and blurts out, _ “Jin?” _

“I’m getting you out of here,” Jin says, no, _ promises, _ and then he summons his sword, and even manages a more reassuring grimace for Mikhail before he goes to town on the lock of the cell door, viciously hacking it off.


	4. Kingdom of One

The body collapses against the desk, then falls onto the floor, spilling blood everywhere and soaking the robes.

In the end, he’s really just a body. A crumpled, smelly, pathetic limbs in a heap body, just like everyone else. A lifeless corpse, no affinity link left to bind Malos to it. 

Powerless.

He’ll never start a war again, never plot a coup again, never tell Malos what to do again, never tell Malos _ anything- _

The face is on its side on the floor, an unseeing eye open. Then Ontos blocks it by crouching down, and Malos doesn’t ask what the hell he’s doing partly because he feels too sluggish to move and partly because just a moment later Ontos stands up again, holding half a grey Core crystal in his hand.

Must be Haze’s, right.

_ That _ shakes him out of his paralysis. The thought that Jin’s still alone in sneaking around in the maze below them, looking for her, is enough to pierce through the _ Amalthus is really gone _ bubble of shock, and Malos says, “We should go back to the rendezvous point and meet with the others. Before anybody finds the - finds the goddamn body.”

“I _ was _ beginning to wonder whether law enforcement exists here,” Ontos hums, pockets Haze’s Core crystal piece, and lets his truly magnificent sword dissipate into the Ether. 

“What?” Malos says. “Nevermind. As soon as they realise the Praetor’s missing we’ll be in some deep shit. We have to leave as soon as possible.” He shakes himself out of it and starts moving towards the stairs, angrily ignoring the urge to turn around and check on Amalthus’s body, just leaves it there like he ought to, and waits for Ontos to follow him before he starts climbing down, resolutely focusing all his energy on leaving the Praetorium. 

Amalthus is gone: _ good. _

And existing without a Driver is technically what Malos has always been doing.

* * *

When they reach the inn, safely hidden almost beneath a road and further protected from sightlines by a throng of merchants and shoppers, they find Cole, still in the robe, sitting at a table on the inn terrace. Alone. Now neither one of them has a Driver. He’s holding another dead Core crystal piece though, which fascinates Ontos. When they stop at Cole’s table Ontos says, “May I have the Core piece?”

“Why?” Cole says defensively, looking especially grim and tired today.

“I think I’d be able to mend it.”

Cole hands it over at once. Even Malos feels a bit curious, sitting down at the table to watch as Ontos takes both halves of Haze’s dead Core in his hands and closes his eyes. As a fellow Aegis, Malos can say that he’s a fan of Ontos’s work - there’s only a mild blue light, suffusing both Core pieces, and then they slowly melt together. Smooth as water. When Ontos opens his eyes again and puts the Core down on the table, it’s whole again and glows softly blue.

“There,” Ontos says. “I’m going to go check out that sculptor’s work now, if you don’t mind.”

He leaves before they can say anything, going across the street to where a sculptor is indeed hard at work. Meanwhile, Cole slowly reaches out and gently traces a finger over the runelike shapes on the side of Haze’s Core, reverently, and Malos finds it so uncomfortable to look at the raw openness of his face that he has to look at something else. Like the spires of the Praetorium. Where Jin still is, somewhere, alone.

“What the fuck’s taking him so long?” Malos grumbles. His hands feel uncomfortably clammy and he wants his sword, and he rubs at his always aching shoulder instead in its absence.

“He’s probably on his way right now,” Cole says.

“And if he isn’t? ” Malos snaps. “If something’s happened to him?

“He knows the risks,” Cole says, quietly, which just makes Malos angrier. “It could be taking him longer to leave because he’s careful.”

That - could be something Jin’s indeed doing. Jin’s not as reckless as Malos and values taking his time doing tasks. Malos grudgingly falls quiet.

Cole then asks, “So, I take it the brief pain I felt means our Driver is dead?”

“Yes,” Malos bites out.

“Cheers,” Cole says. “I feel like I ought to get a drink to celebrate.”

“Do what you want.”

Malos can’t manage any of the same enthusiasm. Jin isn’t here, which is all he can focus on at the moment. If Jin isn’t here then he could still be sneaking around inside the cathedral, or he could be stuck in the dungeons, or in a fight against Indoline warrior monks. 

And Malos can’t help him.

“I hate that I’m not there watching his back,” he complains. “I mean, Jin could probably take _ me _ in a fight, but it’s the Praetorium.” He regrets telling _ Cole _ this almost as soon as he’s said it, because when he shuts his mouth Cole looks at him with this weird fucking, _ considering _ expression.

“You’re really worried about him,” Cole states, the idiot.

“Of course I am!” Malos snaps. “This is _ Indol!” _

Two monks standing nearby give Malos dirty looks, and Malos lowers his voice to say, “See?”

“Yes,” Cole says. Then he gets a really pinched expression, sighs, and says, “I don’t like you. To be frank I consider you about the second worst person I’ve ever met, _ but. _ You care about Jin. So I’m staying until Jin returns,” Cole says. “I owe him that much, you bastard. But as soon as he’s back, I’m leaving.”

That’s actually not such a bad thing, hey, but there’s no way Malos will ever say to Cole’s face that he appreciates a single thing he’s ever done, so Malos makes a neutral mumbling noise instead of replying.

Eventually Ontos returns to their table, even as they’re still waiting for Jin. Malos is discovering new, terrifying emotions within himself with every moment that Jin still hasn’t returned. Who knew you could feel like _ this _ all because someone you care about isn’t here… just because… because Jin isn’t coming back, this is Indol and he’s a Flesh Eater and Malos _ isn’t dumb, _ he knows what could be happening right this very moment, but he’s _ weak, _ his shoulder’s busted his Core’s splintered and he doesn't even have his goddamn sword and he can’t, can’t do anything. He can’t do a goddamn thing to help Jin.

Aegises shouldn’t feel helplessness. It’s unbecoming of them, against nature. His Core’s broken and so is he, only faults in his code.

Then Ontos says, coaxingly, “You two should get some rest. I believe it’s approaching night time, no?”

“In an hour, maybe,” Cole says.

“Go to bed,” Ontos insists. “I’ll wait up for Jin.”

And when Cole tells him to move his ass, Malos feels too weary to protest.

In the morning, Jin will be back, and Malos won’t have to worry, or feel anything like this, and everything will be like it should be.

* * *

Upon waking, the first thing Cole does is tense and reach for Haze’s Core crystal, and when he sees it safe on the bedside table he slowly relaxes again. It’s a miracle that it healed. But Aegises are supposed to deal in miracles, Cole remembers. If things had gone according to legend and myth, that is, but Malos and Mythra were so bad at just that. Rough and unpolished, too new, too arrogant, too clumsy, leaving only destruction in their wake-

That’s not entirely fair to Mythra though; at least she’d tried.

Ontos’s brand of Aegis is… something else entirely. If it’s a message from the Architect, from their cruel apathetic God, then Cole doesn’t have the faintest idea what it’s supposed to mean... 

Cole gets out of bed and pulls on his boots. When he rises to pick up his armour, he looks over at Malos’s bunk, and - the bastard’s really asleep. And yesterday he’d seemed really, honestly, _ truly _ worried about Jin. 

Cole still can’t quite wrap his mind around that, how Malos… seems to honestly feel about Jin. He’d never, in a thousand years, have expected _ Malos _ to feel something as human as that. And about _ Jin, _ of all people, even though now it almost makes a sort of sense. They’ve obviously been traveling together for some time, however the hell that ever happened. Even though Cole cannot imagine a positive second meeting for them, he just can’t. But Cole won’t ask about it either, any of it. 

He takes Haze’s Core with him, of course, leaves Malos sleeping and goes outside, where he finds Ontos eating breakfast at a table outside the inn. He contemplates asking whether Ontos even went to bed at all, but then he realises that- “Jin still hasn’t returned?”

Jin might have joined Malos but it’s still _ Jin. _ Cole doesn’t like this one bit.

“No,” Ontos says. “I’m unsure of how long we should be waiting for him, but yet-”

“He has been gone too long.”

Ontos makes a gesture, as if saying _ well yes. _

“NEWSPAPERS!” shouts a boy from the street just then, holding a bunch of papers. “TODAY’S NEWS, FOR ONLY 90 G!” 

A few passerbys stop to buy from him.

Ontos looks at Cole. Cole sighs and jogs over to the boy, taking out a few chips from his pocket. He pays the boy and gets the paper, which on its front page already has some tremendously bad news. Bad enough to make Cole shamefully regret every bad thought he’s already had about Jin this morning, as he runs back across the street and shoves the paper at Ontos with a, “Look! Look at this.” 

Ontos scans the front page in a second, then looks up and says, “This is bad, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it sure is very bad!” Cole puts his face in his hands. “They’re blaming Jin and some random kid for the murder of the Praetor! They’re going to be _ executed this evening!” _

“I guess this man I killed was pretty important,” Ontos states to himself. 

Cole doesn’t have to think of some wretched reply to that, because right then Malos finally joins them at their table. “What?” he demands first thing upon reaching them “Give me that paper.”

It’s good that they’ve got Ontos here with them as the level-headed neutral party, Cole thinks. Because Malos sure won’t approach this with any sort of calm or rationality whatsoever, judging by his wild expression.

He snatches the paper out of Cole’s hand, reads about the Flesh Eater and refugee kid apprehended in the cathedral this night - and who could it possibly be if not Jin, oh foolish man - and Malos says, “That fucking - if he got himself caught because he was trying to help some idiot kid-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and Cole delicately takes the paper back from him and puts it on the table. _ Oh, Jin. _ Cole closes his eyes, too.

For a moment all is quiet as they prematurely mourn him.

Then Ontos opens his mouth. “Isn’t Poldis Circle nearby?” he asks, softly. “I think you mentioned it. And you said the Titan isn’t big. So the cells they’re held in must be…”

Malos jerks back into motion. “I know where,” he says, fervently, coming back to life at the words, at perhaps realising they still have the third Aegis with them. That they have a chance. “There’s a minor cell block beneath the road, I’ll get us in, yes. We’ll rescue them. Let’s go.”

Cole knows he should leave it, but still he says, _ “‘Them’?” _

“If Jin wants that kid rescued, then I’m damn well going to rescue him.”

_ Oh Jin, _ Cole thinks again. Does he know what Malos thinks of him? Does he? Malos is more natural disaster than man, yet the thing he seems to value the most in Alrest is Jin. It’s a very sobering and unexpected thing to realise about Malos, certainly, but now that Amalthus is dead… Maybe Jin and Malos aren’t as lost as Cole first judged them. Maybe there’s still hope for them, if they can get out of Amalthus’s shadow.

If they can rescue Jin, that is.

“We should hurry up,” Cole says, and gets up, muttering, “I’ll help you rescue Jin, but then I’m leaving for good and taking Haze with me.”

“Who cares about Haze?” Malos snaps, which automatically makes Cole bristle. “We’ve got to rescue Jin, _ now, _ get up…”

* * *

At least they got put in the same cell.

They’re in a building closer to the city; they got dragged here bodily so Jin knows this even though this cell has no windows.

This cell made specifically to cut a Blade off from their powers, which is why Jin feels especially shit this morning, and not just because Jin spent the whole night sitting up with Mikhail, talking about what’s happened. Mikhail looks really queasy too, but then again - they’re in prison waiting for death, it could hardly be worse. So he sat up all night, reassuring the boy - _ teenager. _ Getting caught wasn’t the plan, but only getting caught instead of killed on sight - there’s a chance for Malos and the others to rescue them, now. 

Unless they’ve been caught too.

Jin doesn’t think so, surely the monks standing guard outside of their cell would’ve been talking about it in that case, but…

(but the worst can and does happen)

Well. At least he knows that Amalthus will never get his Core, because the Praetor’s dead and Jin’s Core won’t be usable after his death. It’ll be a human death, a final rest.

Exactly like Lora.

And he got to see Mikhail again. That wasn’t so bad-

-then something thumps against the heavy metal cell door, and Mikhail grabs Jin’s arm, and Jin can’t reach for his sword or even create a spike of ice or a shield because there’s no Ether in the entire room, but he narrows his eyes and tenses.

And then Malos opens the door.

“Malos,” Jin says, smiling thinly with relief, at the same time as Mikhail cries, _ “Malos?” _

“Jin,” Malos says. “And the kid, great, we need to leave-”

Mikhail’s squeezing Jin’s arm so hard it hurts and quickly Jin turns to tell him, “Don’t worry, Malos will help us, Mik. Remember what I told you?” 

Malos takes a step closer but Jin holds up a hand to stop him, making him wait the few seconds it takes for Mikhail to decide, “Yes. Okay.” And Malos _ does _ wait, even though he looks annoyed about it, and even though he comes forward to pull Jin to his feet as soon as Mikhail lets go of Jin.

“There’s guards everywhere,” Malos says. “We need to move, _ now.” _

“We’re getting out of here,” Jin promises to Mikhail, who stares up at him with wary big blue eyes, just like when he was a little kid, even though now he’s hardly more than a few inches shorter than Jin, and Mik nods. 

Malos gets out first, and as soon as they’re all out of the cell Jin summons his sword, eyes the crumpled body of a guard that’s lying in the corridor next to their cell door and asks, “Did you _ punch _ that monk?”

“And so what if I did?”

Jin draws his sword and steps in front of Malos. “I’ll go first, then. You protect Mikhail.”

(Even though it feels like far from a good idea to put Mikhail’s life in Malos’s hands, feels like carelessly trusting Malos with the remainder of Jin’s soul, it still seems like Jin fighting for the both of them is the option most likely to get Mikhail out of here alive, so that’s what it’ll be)

“Fine,” Malos says, and then, “Fuck,” as some monks come running toward them, shouting about how they’ll have their heads for their crimes.

Jin fights them off, and then he fights off ten equally hostile guards more as they make their way out of the cell block. He feels Lora’s absence almost like a missing limb, like a physical pain in his Ether, but having Mik and Malos there behind him to protect keeps his mind on the task, just as much as having Malos prepared to defend Mik makes him able to go all out (like he hadn’t been able to do last night, out of fear for Mik)

Something feels off about his Ether, but Jin knows - he’s a Flesh Eater now, it’s got to be that. The fact that he feels more powerful than he ought to… maybe it’s just that he’s not sharing his power with anyone anymore. And he’d give _ anything _ to share it with Lora again, even though _ now _ when he pushes at the Ether his ice goes colder and colder than ever before, faster, deadly black ice coating the floors for just the split-second it takes to fell three guards.

It’s unsettling.

He tries not to push too much at it.

Soon they run into Ontos and Cole, which means they got through the prison, and Mikhail’s still alright. Thankfully. Cole’s hurt though, when they rendezvous - his arm’s bleeding and haphazardly bandaged with strips torn from some unlucky monk’s robe, but they can’t worry about any of that right now, because what they have to do next is flee from Indol, and for _ that _they have to go back to the harbour, that damned harbour, because ships are the only way to get off Indol just like with every other blasted Titan.

“We need to go to the harbour,” Jin says.

“No way,” Cole snaps, pressing a trembling hand to his bleeding wound. “There’s like a hundred guards waiting for us-”

“We _ have _ to get off Indol!” Jin snaps back, patience fraying very, _ very _ thin already, with Mikhail clinging anxiously to his hand and his Core crystal aching fiercely.

“Jin’s right,” Malos says. “We’re _ dead _ if we stay here-”

“No ship would take us aboard!”

“Then steal something!” Mik exclaims in a burst of anger, drawing looks from both Cole and Malos, and then Ontos says,

“That would work, wouldn’t it? If we steal a ship-”

_ “Then let’s get to the harbour.” _

Sneaking won’t get them across the wide expanse of open street between here and the harbour. 

But sprinting like hell just might.

So then, when they’re in the middle of running for their lives down along the harbour with a bunch of warrior monks tight on their heels, passerbys ducking and screaming and Malos shouting curses as they go, Jin doesn’t stop to _ consider _which ship would be the most practical or anonymous, no, of course he just goes with the one that Mikhail first points to while running and yells, “That one! That one, the big one!”

And Jin yells, “This way,” already taking a turn to get closer to it, and then when he looks up his eyes fall on the biggest goddamn Tornan warship he’s seen in years, and he yells, “Mik?”

“I know how to steer it!” Mik shouts back. “Let’s steal it, quickly, c’mon-”

Fortunately the landing ramp is down, and Jin cuts down the only man guarding it before shooing Mikhail aboard. If Mik says he knows how to steer this ship - well, Jin could probably manage it in an emergency, but all the better if Mikhail does it. 

Jin throws a glance behind him, sees that the others are going to make it, they’ll be fine, and then he quickly follows Mikhail in case there’s more guards aboard (likely) so that he can defend him if the need arises.

Inside the ship, things are… in a disarray. It looks like the ship was plundered and brought into port just yesterday, scratches on the walls and decorations torn off. The lights are at 20% through the whole corridor they first run through, and in the mess hall everything is dark, tables and chairs overturned. In the corridor after that they meet two monks, and Jin kills them quickly while telling Mik to go on ahead.

When he next catches up to Mik, he’s clearly found the bridge of the ship. It’s a cavernous room, dark apart from the screens and controls with writing in the familiar Tornan symbols, and Mikhail stands at the steering console and types rapidly. He doesn’t even look up when Jin enters, or when Malos enters a moment later.

“Malos,” Jin says. “Can you stay here and watch over Mikhail? I’ll have to go scout the ship for any more guards.”

“Its name is _ Marsanes,” _ Mikhail interrupts. “And I don’t need a _ babysitter.” _

“Mik-” Jin starts.

“I’ll do it,” Malos says, interrupting gruffly. “But get back quickly.”

Jin nods and jogs back out into the corridor, nodachi in hand.

* * *

He finds a few loaders on the lowest deck and dumps them into the Cloud Sea, then seals up the cargo entrance with a lever on the wall. When he next gets up above sea level and looks out through a tiny peephole of a window, he can see Indol’s silhouette far away on the horizon, and some muscles he didn’t even realise he’d been tensing start to relax. 

_ Oh, _ they made it. They made it.

Indol can send ships after them, sure - but now they’re in a _ Tornan warship, _ and there’s no ship in Alrest that can take down a Tornan warship other than another one.

They’re… as safe as they can be, for now.

After another lap through the decks of _ Marsanes _\- all with dim lights, broken furniture and steel grey walls - Jin runs into Cole and Ontos on his way back to the bridge. Ontos says, “We found a couple of workers on deck three and killed them. Is that okay?”

“I… suppose,” Jin has to say. He _ did _ kill those two guards, too.

And he didn’t care about spilling any blood until he met Mikhail again, anyway, until his past caught up to him.

“At least we’re off Indol,” Cole grumbles, then pulls off his monk’s robe. Ontos’s robe is already gone and Jin’s got removed before the cell. “I have already risked too much for you and Malos, Jin. The next port we go to, the very first one, _ I don’t care where, _ I’m getting off this ship.”

“If that is what you wish,” Jin concedes, trying to ignore the disappointment he feels at that. They never meant to pick up Cole, anyway. They’ll be better off without him.

...Especially if they’re going to make good on their promise.

Jin takes Ontos and Cole with him and goes back to the bridge, where Malos stands in a corner looking bored while Mikhail pries open the panel on one of the consoles, peering inside at the wires with great interest and no self-preservation instinct. Jin trusts that the kid knows what he’s doing, though.

“So,” Jin begins, walking to the middle of the room. “We now have a ship. Indoline authorities will most probably be looking for us for years because of this, but is that truly any different from how it was before? At least now we have the _ Marsanes, _ and we have Haze.”

“Hmrph,” Cole says, looking pained. “It pains me to admit that you’re right, but indeed - it went pretty well. All things considering.”

Ontos speaks up, sounding interested: “We rescued ‘Haze’, so what is next?”

Mikhail stops poking at the innards of the console and looks up, looks over at Jin, looking like a kid again all at once. Cole and Ontos both look to Jin, too, one’s eyes heavy with expectation and the other one calmly curious. And from his corner Malos glances over at Jin, and waits.

“There’s a thing I must do,” Jin begins, finds the words sticking at the thought of it and clears his throat. “Something I have to retrieve, first, before anything else.”


	5. Honey

When Malos next goes to the bridge, Jin and the blond teen - Mikhail - are both standing there and looking at a screen. “Is that the view outside?” Malos asks, as he comes to stand next to Jin, and gets a look at the foamy Cloud Sea landscape on the screen.

“Yes.”

It’s a sunny day, albeit windy, and clouds swirl and foam over the surface of the sea. In the distance, Malos spots a scraggly cliff peeking out of the Cloud Sea, waves beating against it. He asks, “Is that where we’re heading?” 

“Yes,” Jin says again. “It won’t take long.”

Malos did hear Jin call that little cliff an _ island _ earlier, but the closer they come to it, the worse it really looks like. It’s tilting sharply, for one, and it’s so small there’s only room for the cliff, a tiny cave, and some wilting grass and bushes. There’s some driftwood and other crap scattered on the flattest part of it, and more sticking out of the sea around it. Honestly, the cliff is so shitty and tiny that at first Malos doesn’t even get how Jin even found the way to it.

Then Malos takes another long look at the cliff, recognises just what kind of stone it’s really made out of (Tornan limestone) and resolves to just shut the fuck up for the rest of this trip.

The _ Marsanes _ doesn’t as much ‘dock’ as gently bump against the cliff, and Malos imagines that Jin has to wade for a bit when getting out of the ship and up on the island. 

He goes alone.

Malos and Mikhail wait on the bridge for a while, but it gets really boring really fast to watch the Cloud Sea, so eventually Malos gets up and starts heading to the entrance of the ship, and Mikhail tags along. When they get down there though, Cole is also hanging out by the entrance looking dumb.

“Where’s Ontos?” Malos asks him.

“Why would I know?”

Fair enough. Malos doesn’t reply.

Together they stand in the entrance and look out at the ‘island’, where Jin is nowhere to be seen. Until a moment later, when he steps out of the cave opening, holding something in his arms. No, not some_ thing: _ that’s a body.

And then Malos realises without even having to look at the body’s face. 

“What-” Mikhail says, as Jin walks closer, and then he must recognise her because he gasps, “Oh _ yikes.” _

“Is that-” Cole begins, then takes a step back and says, “Did you - you’ve kept her body in that cave _ all this time?” _

“I couldn’t just abandon her,” Jin says and walks aboard, Lora’s cryonically preserved corpse in his arms. Her eyes are closed, and if it weren’t for her white skin and lack of breathing she would look almost like she’s merely asleep. There’s some blood on her shirt, too, but otherwise she looks perfectly decent - Cole and Mikhail shouldn’t have that goddamn much to freak out about.

It’s _ Jin’s _Driver after all, and Jin looks calm, almost at peace as he carries the body inside and Mik and Cole quickly move away from him.

“I’ll freeze her again,” Jin says quietly. “In a storage room. You don’t have to see her again. But I simply could not leave her in that cave…”

“Yeah,” Cole says. “Yes. Of course.”

Mikhail says nothing, and right, yes, traumatised teenager. Malos doesn’t think a shoulder pat from _ him _ would be appreciated though, so instead he just follows Jin down the corridor and leaves Cole to deal with the kid by himself. Cole looks like he’d be good with kids, doesn’t he?

Together they check in a few different rooms, until at last they find a spacy, empty storage room. There Jin lays his Driver’s body gently on the floor, kneels next to her and closes his eyes, and gets to work.

Malos stands behind him and watches silently. He can vaguely feel how all the Ether particles in the air seem to start gravitating toward Jin and Lora, and a moment later ice starts spreading over the body, crystal clear but thick. And it spreads, and spreads, even quicker as Jin stands up and starts backing away, and in a matter of seconds the ice covers half the damn room and in the middle of it, frozen so she’s standing upright beneath a thick layer of completely transparent ice, like glass, is Lora’s body.

When Malos breathes in the cold air prickles in his throat, and Jin is leaning against a wall, his white coat and pants gone, his clothes transformed into something else. Some kind of heavy black armour covers most of him, Ether lines traced throughout the design, with some kind of wings sticking out from the lower back.

At first glance it looks silly, then it almost looks good, and finally Malos decides it’s silly - and then Jin pushes himself away from the wall to face Malos, and the armour has no front. Nope. There’s just bare chest where there should be armour plates, _ something, _ and this is the first time Malos has really gotten a good look at Jin’s scar.

“Alright,” Malos says. “Was _ that _intentional-”

“No,” Jin says, looking down at himself. “What - why would this happen?”

“It’s probably a Flesh Eater thing. I think Aegises are meant to be able to do something similar, though obviously I can’t access that.”

“This is natural?” Jin asks. Malos dreads that when Jin looks up he’ll have a distressed expression, but then when he actually does look at Malos, he just looks... cranky.

Malos starts to grin. “Don’t you like it? I think all the black really sells it as a ‘this is my most powerful form, fear me’ kind of outfit-”

“It’s so not my style.”

“I think it fits you,” Malos says, smirking. “Let’s go show the others,” he suggests, even though it’s mostly just because he doesn’t want Jin to be in the room with his dead Driver any longer (even though he’ll doubtlessly come back later, which is a battle for another day).

Jin sighs, still looking down at himself. “Might as well.”

They leave the room, and Malos closes the door behind them, leaving the frozen body to rest alone in the stillness and quiet.

* * *

After Jin and Malos go, Cole tags along with Mik back to the bridge and sits watch. Really though, Cole is just watching the kid, trying to figure out when the hell he grew up.

Mikhail has gotten a lot taller and a lot shiftier, and a lot mouthier, too. That’s about the only good thing, though. Cole wasn’t as close to the boy as Lora’s crew or Milton, or even Mythra, but still... if he’d only known Mikhail was still alive after whatever went down in Spessia-

The boy might have been imprisoned on Indol for many _ years. _ Architect knows what Amalthus might have done to him in that time…

...and aren’t humans supposed to age a bit faster than _ that? _

He’s just about to ask something about that when Mikhail says, “You’re a Flesh Eater, right?”

“Yes,” Cole says cautiously. Mikhail is _ not _ a Blade. He’s a war orphan like so many others, and completely human. No cause for alarm here. “What about it?”

“So, that means you’re half-Human and half-Blade?” Mikhail says, looking at him unflinchingly from where he’s standing next to the console he’d been poking at earlier. His eyes are hard and determined.

“In essence, yes.” That’s the gist of it, either way. “What’s the matter, Mik?”

Mikhail sniffs, chin up. Then he unties the top of his shirt, and there’s _ a Core crystal _set into his chest, glowing a steady blue and completely unbothered by Cole’s complete shock or Mik’s grimace.

That is unfortunately also the moment that Jin, Malos and Ontos enter the bridge, and judging by their faces the fact that _ Mik has a Core _ is news to them too, which makes Cole feel infinitesimally better. Jin, who’s wearing something weird which Cole doesn’t have the goddamn time to think about now, rushes up to Mikhail before Cole can react and says, “Mikhail! How - how long have you had this? Does it hurt-”

“A bit,” Mikhail says. “Look, I’ve had it for months already, I was just wondering-”

“He’s a Blade Eater?” Malos says incredulously to Ontos, who says,

_ “That’s _ a thing?”

“This cannot possibly be good for your health,” Jin says, frowning and looking at the scar tissue surrounding the crystal. It looks like someone carved out a bit of flesh and then just put the Core in there instead. It looks wrong and disturbing and the thought that at least Amalthus is dead now does nothing to dissipate Cole’s horror. “This should be - a Medic should have a look at this.”

“Pity none of us are Healers,” Malos pipes up. “Ontos?”

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid my knowledge of this world is very limited, and this… ‘Blade Eater’ phenomenon is not something I’ve got in my database. I fear I would only harm him if I were to try anything.”

In a pocket in Cole’s jacket rests Haze’s Core crystal, asleep, and he knows as well as Jin what her alignment used to be. What it should still be, were they to awaken her.

“Mikhail,” Cole says, and the kid looks up at him. “None of us are Healers, yes... But Haze was. And we’ve got her Core.”

Everyone looks at Cole, now.

“You’d really let Mikhail awaken her?” Jin asks.

“I’m certain he’d have the aptitude for it,” Cole says, carefully taking out Haze’s Core - something like a breeze always shivers over his hand when he touches the crystal - and holds it out. “If he wanted to try.”

He’d be no good for awakening her, himself. Neither would Jin, absolutely never ever in a thousand years Malos, and Ontos is too peculiar to be trusted with a Blade. But Mikhail - still not the best Driver-candidate, maybe - could really use a Blade, and they loved each other, once upon a time, even if Haze will never remember that. Haze took care of Mik, years ago. If it has to be anyone aboard this ship, then it should be Mikhail.

And they need a Healer in the game.

(Cole has, privately and only in his mind, written many what-ifs like this moment: how would Haze awaken, when and where and to whom, if it ever happened again? If she was ever saved? As it will happen now isn’t as... _ poetic, _ as in Cole’s imagination, maybe, but it’s still… )

“Mikhail?” Jin asks, quietly, and everyone looks at the teenager.

“Okay. Alright.” He sets his jaw. “It’s Haze. So I’ll try it.”

Cole walks over and puts Haze’s crystal in his hand, then withdraws along with Jin. Ontos leans forward curiously and Malos projects an air of indifference, but all of them watch like hawks as Mikhail holds the softly glowing Core crystal with both of his hands and, after a moment of self-consciousness, closes his eyes.

Cole feels the change in the air as it comes. 

The light in Mikhail’s hands grows and grows, and then a wind sweeps through the room, fresh and brisk like it’s blown in straight from the sea, and in the next second a silhouette shows through the glow. Cole can see it even from beneath the hand he’s holding up to shield his eyes from the blinding light. And when it starts to fade, enough for him to let his hand fall and for Mikhail to open his eyes, Haze stands before him, holding her staff in a - defense position?

“What--?” she says, and Cole had almost forgotten the sweet sound of her voice, soft yet firmly determined to get to the bottom of the problem, protect her team with tooth and nail- “Where are we? Where is Lady Lora? _ Mikhail?” _

It takes a second.

The shock hits Cole’s vocal chords first, then his knees. Mikhail’s just gaping at Haze while Jin stumbles first one step forward, then several backward, away from her. Malos scowls and is unfortunately the first one able to start speaking, telling Haze, “It’s been about 25 years since, Haze-”

He doesn’t get a word more out before Haze whirls around, staff raised.

“Wait,” Jin rasps, and Haze’s eyes cut sharply to look at him, where he’s standing next to Malos. He clears his throat and quickly says, “It’s not - a lot has happened, Haze. It’s really been… years…”

Again, shock seems to overwhelm Jin, and he trails off. Cole sympathises strongly, feeling almost numb himself.

This is _ not _how Cole thought this would go. This is the kind of thing that only happens to characters in plays, coming back from the dead-

Why does Haze remember? _ What _ does she remember? Evidently not her time in Indol, but does she remember everything else? Really everything else? _ How can Haze remember anything? _

_ How? _

“Where’s Lora?” Haze asks again, clutching her staff in a white-knuckled grip. “I can’t feel her, I can only… feel Mikhail…”

She hesitates somewhere between doubt and terrible realisation, and Cole hates Amalthus with a brief and all-consuming passion, hates him for everything he took from them and especially for what he took from Haze, before even that’s swept away like ashes. He’s dead now. Haze is still here, Cole and Mikhail are still here - for better or for worse, so are Jin and Malos. That’s what matters. And if Haze miraculously remembers-

“Hi, Haze,” Mikhail says, then grimly. “I’m sorry but… Lora is gone.”

Haze staggers. She folds over, holding herself up only by clinging to her staff, and Cole wonders if maybe they ought to reach out, comfort her, or perhaps leave her alone- and then before he can, Haze straightens up again, a single tear running down her cheek. She takes a big heaving breath and says, determinedly, “Mikhail.

“I take it you’re my new Driver?” 

“Yes,” Mikhail says. He’s all awkward lanky frame with a too serious face, steely blue eyes and a mouth that’s never smiled beneath his ridiculous blond fringe. “Sorry. I guess you’re stuck with lousy old me.”

“Mikhail,” Haze repeats. Then she steps forward and suddenly she and Mik are embracing, and one of them might be crying, and Cole takes a step back, they’ll perhaps need to have a private moment, he shouldn't be here anyway-

Then Jin looks at Cole, for a moment, and takes the few steps forward to be able to embrace Haze and MIkhail both, and Cole finds himself following, even though he’s never been one for affection. He’s a bit stiff and awkward and nobody ever taught him anything about love before he joined up with Addam and his merry band, what feels like a lifetime ago, a thousand years ago. But even Jin, who’s even stiffer and grimmer than Cole and is and permanently cold to the touch, almost melts into the hug, holds Haze and Mikhail just like Cole saw a man in Addam’s militia hug his children whom he had thought dead. And when seeing that, Cole just wraps his arm around Mik and presses his head into Haze’s shoulder and thinks _ to hell with it. _

His dignity died a messy death years ago, either way.

When he a minute later lifts his head again and looks up, he can see Malos and Ontos standing next to each other and watching the remnants of Addam’s team hug. The Aegises, keeping themselves separated from the others.

Again, he’s reminded of Mythra.

Every broken thing reminds Cole of another broken thing; now when he turns his head and looks at Jin he’s reminded painfully of himself, he looks at Haze and remembers Lora’s dead body, looks at Mikhail and is reminded again of how Milton never got to grow up to be as old as Mik is now...

Physical contact has never been Cole’s thing, yes, but this time it feels almost cathartic.

When they all withdraw from each other, Haze says, “I’m glad you’re my Driver, Mikhail.”

“Thanks,” he says. “But you don’t need to pretend. I’m just glad to see you again, even if I’m not the Driver you want.”

“But you’re the one I have, now,” Haze says, reassuringly. “And I’m - I’ll appreciate it. In time. I - I know so.”

Mikhail nods, stiffly. And after that, as Cole and Jin withdraw, Mikhail quickly introduces Haze to first a curious Ontos, then points at Malos and says, “I know, it’s Malos. I know. But Jin trusts him, so…”

“Well,” Haze says, biting her lip. At least she hasn’t manifested her staff again. She sizes Malos up, then steps forward and holds out her hand. “I’m Haze. Nice to meet you.”

Malos takes her hand extremely hesitantly, making Cole snort, and they shake hands. “Hello again,” Malos says, awkwardly, and Haze tightens her grip on Malos’s hand so hard he actually grimaces for a second.

Haze leans forward, even though she’s about two heads shorter than Malos, and says to him, “I used to trust Jin’s judgement. And you say it’s been 25 years. But if you even_ think _ about harming Mikhail, then I will end you.”

“Haze-” Jin starts, but Cole gestures him silent. This is _ interesting. _ This is a side of Haze he’s barely seen before, and he thinks it’s rather awe-inspiring.

Also, seeing Malos sweat is funny as hell.

“Understood,” Malos says, and withdraws quickly after dropping her hand.

Jin shakes his head and Cole snorts.

“So, you’re a Healer, right, Haze?” Mikhail asks after that.

“Yes,” Haze says. “Is there anything- oh dear.”

Mikhail’s showing her his crystal, which looks just as painful as it did the last time.

“There should be an infirmary on this ship,” Jin says. “If… you’d like to go there and take a look at it?”

“This ship,” Haze echoes, eyes narrowed. “That is…?”

“It’s a Tornan warship,” Mikhail says, visibly more excited now, and Cole quickly says,

“Its name is _ Marsanes, _ yes. I think I’ll come with you. I saw that infirmary around here somewhere...”

“Well then.”

Neither Haze nor Mikhail protest, and together the three of them leave the room - Cole thinks he hears Ontos tugging Jin and Malos away for a private discussion in their absence, but Cole really doesn’t care, whatsoever - and they start walking off in the direction Cole guesses the infirmary is in. Both him and Mikhail keep sneaking looks at Haze as they walk, and every time she looks as perfect as when he last saw her with Lora, her Core whole and bright and unhurt, and she tries to smile at them every time their eyes meet.

She really is back.

Cole isn’t the kind who prays or believes in miracles, not even in what he writes into his scripts, makes his characters believe in - but in this moment he nevertheless feels almost reverent. Suspicious too, yes. But happy.

* * *

“Ontos,” Jin demands as soon as Mikhail, Haze and Cole have left the bridge, turning to face him, accuse him. “How does Haze remember? I _ know _you’ve done something, there’s no one else who could have done this to her…”

He’s so hopeful it feels more like fear.

“I did what I meant to do,” Ontos says calmly. “From the data about her past life in her Core, I restored her. What else should I have done to the Core? You wanted her back, did you not?”

“I don’t think he’s lying,” Malos adds. “He’s just… got hidden talents.”

Jin takes that in. It could certainly be true; whatever it was that Ontos did to fix Haze’s Core, Jin himself wasn’t there to witness it. And Ontos _ is _ supposedly the third Aegis, the mysteriously lost Aegis… Who can blame him, really, for fixing something even better than expected? It’s nature. “So, Haze remembers now,” Jin says, and his voice is entirely steady, his demeanour entirely calm. He’s keeping it under control. He never even imagined that ‘getting Haze back’ would mean _ getting Haze back, _ would mean resurrecting yet another piece of his past, putting another helpless Lora-less wraith into the world, but he’s calm.

“I suppose she does,” Ontos says. “It’s rather dreadful, how Blades usually don’t remember. The one fatal flaw in Father’s design.”

Jin can’t find the strength in himself to reply to that, and Malos doesn't say anything either. 

Haze _ remembers. _ Maybe everything, or maybe only parts of it, but she remembers _ Lora. _

Jin’s burden, halved yet again, and he never meant for that to happen.

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

Ontos doesn’t care of course, because he’s an Aegis; he was just doing his job. Divine, and indifferent to the end. Uncaring. No, instead he looks at Malos and asks, “So moving on. Blade Eaters?” They stare at each other with alarming intensity for a moment, and then Malos says,

“Yeah, indeed, they’re like Flesh Eaters. Fifty-fifty, but coming at it from the other direction.”

“That’s oversimplifying it,” Jin adds seamlessly, glad to have a new topic, even though it feels like he missed something here. He ruthlessly doesn’t care. “Blade Eaters can even be… more human and less Blade. So to say. Drivers could also just choose to implant a tiny Core crystal bit to- well. I don’t think countries other than Torna practice that anymore…”

“And Torna is…” Ontos prompts, now glancing at Jin. His expression is never easy to read - even when he’s obviously curious, or amused, or sympathetic there’s no depth. There’s no grip you can get on him. No hidden motive you can find.

He only said he wanted to find ‘Pneuma’, when they first met. Whatever that might mean (an Artifice, perhaps?)

He fixed Haze’s Core.

He’s the third Aegis.

To look into his eyes is like trying to figure what the hell a Laia or Lexos might be thinking. 

“Gone,” Malos says curtly to Ontos’s question. “Anyway, since you apparently healed _ Haze’s _ Core just fine… You think you could fix my Core?”

Ontos allows him to change the subject. “I actually am not able to do that on my own. My data is specialised in other fields, and common Blade Cores are, I’ve found out… they’re just not as _ complex _ as an Aegis Core. Aegises aren’t even in nearly the same category as other Blades, it’s…” He waves a hand. Jin thinks this is the first time he’s seen him at a loss for words, and were it not that Jin felt rather emotionally exhausted he’d be narrowing his eyes. Ontos says, “We’re the admins of this system, Malos.”

“Is that so.” Malos says, flatly, and when Jin looks at him Malos doesn’t meet his eye, too busy glaring at Ontos.

“We’re - strictly speaking we aren’t ‘Blades’,” Ontos says. “We’re so far removed from the entire cycle, the whole thing. We’re overseers of the world, the worlds. Father… what is it you call him?”

“The Architect,” Jin suggests, tries to catch Malos’s eye and fails again.

“The Architect,” Ontos says. “Yes. He made us this way - though I was mostly unintentional, I’m sure. I had absolute power over my domain, and this wasn’t something he would’ve given me freely, of course. But either way…”

“Malos, what is he talking about?”

Malos looks at a spot on the wall and says, “Hell if I know. Could you get to the point, Ontos?”

He says, “Well then. Pneuma could fix your Core.”

“...Pneuma?” Malos repeats, slowly.

“Yes. I’m sure she’ll fix it when we find her.”

After that cryptic comment, Jin quickly says, “Malos, could I speak to you alone for a moment?”

“...Alright,” Malos says. “Let’s go outside.”

* * *

They do find a tiny balcony outside, more of a ledge really, on the hull of the _ Marsanes, _on which they then stand together and gaze out into the distance from for a minute. To their right, Jin can see the World Tree looming, green-blue and faintly luminous, unchanging and everlasting. Supposedly the roots from which Elysium grew, and supposedly where the Architect still dwells, and supposedly even from where Amalthus one day, many years ago, brought the two Aegis Cores back with him.

If you believe in the myths and rumours.

“You’re an Aegis,” Jin begins, a neutral opening statement. “What does that mean, exactly?”

He’s spent so much time with Malos that the fact almost slipped his mind. Like Malos won’t be some sort of demigod of destruction anymore, if you just get to know him.

How… silly.

“It’s…” Malos begins. “It’s kinda like being the Architect of the Blades. But not really. It’s all very… Complicated. Ultimately none of this concerns me, either way. You know my Core’s broken.”

“I know.” Jin considers him. “I’m sorry.”

Malos sneaks a glance at him, then says, “I’m merely a shadow of my former self, like this. I still have some amount of power, maybe on par with a weaker common Blade, but I’m still unable to summon my sword. I have no connection to any Driver or server or Artifice. Even some of my memories seem to have been corrupted, or as I strongly suspect, are entirely missing.”

“I know,” Jin says again. _ I know you’re broken. I know you’re in pain a lot of the time. I know you’ve never meaningfully connected to a Driver. And I’m sorry it’s like this. _ But on the other side of that - a dark and terrible part that Jin still finds himself entirely too willing to think about - is that Malos _ had _ to be stopped. Destroyed. Killed and buried, too dangerous to be allowed to exist. And that if Malos weren’t broken, he’d never be here.

He’d be out there, aimlessly tearing Alrest apart down to its foundations.

...Which is, in fact, exactly what Malos promised to help _ Jin do. _What they promised each other they were going to do, together till the end.

There’s just one problem with their plan: it just doesn’t seem very logical anymore. Oh, if Jin dwells on the state of things for a while, he’s sure all that ice-cold rage would seep right back into him and turn him into a merciless weapon whose only desire is to bring an end to everything once again. It’s what the Architect deserves. It’s just an eye for an eye. It’s just, he doesn’t think… that it’s a good plan to keep on plotting the death of everything _ now, _ if they have to care for Mikhail and play hosts to Ontos, Cole and Haze too (oh _ no, _ Haze will definitely see right through him). They wouldn’t even be able to fight them all off, if it came to that.

Jin doesn’t want it to come to that.

Malos is standing next to him and looking at the Cloud Sea when Jin next glances at him. He’s wearing his underarmour and his ratty old cloak which he seems pretty fond of, the one Jin saw him buy roughly two years ago, and they’ve been buying information in Mor Ardain and sleeping aboard ships and hiking through Skyldin together, Jin’s seen him folding over with pain and Jin’s woken up with splitting headaches for weeks, having Malos soothe them away until Jin got the hang of the new kind of Ether channeling he had to do to rid himself of them. 

He’s been afraid of him, been disgusted by him, hated him, pitied him, used him, tried to understand him. He’s now seen him for a few days as he is without Amalthus casting shadow over every thought in his head, without Jin himself being too mired in hate and grief to get anything done, and… and they made their promise, yes, but it’d be such a waste to carry it out _ now, _ now when they’ve gotten all this way together, rescued Haze and Mikhail and everything.

Now when the sun’s shining down on them as they stand atop their ship together.

They can pick up their plan again, later, but… not now.

Jin says, “I think we should rethink our promise, Malos.”

“Because Ontos is getting suspicious?” Malos asks.

“No. That too. But do you really think… would you really want us to continue upon our journey to the end? Would you? Telling nobody and silently stewing in hate?”

Malos looks at him almost helplessly. “Jin, if you want to forget about our promise for a while, then yes. I agree. Just don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Jin asks, somewhat gently.

“Don’t ask me what to do next. Because I don’t have any damn idea.”

“I think we’ll find out soon enough,” Jin says to that. “When I was raising Lora on the run with her, we just had to take each day one by one.”

“Jin…” Malos begins, his face pained. “About Torna… I’m sorry.”

This isn’t the very first time Malos has apologised about what occured on Torna, but right now, this time, seems infinitely more honest than the apology Jin had gotten years ago. And this time Jin, instead of muttering something and then turning away, says, “It was Amalthus’s influence. I forgive you.”

“It was still I who did it! I fought against you!” Malos snarls.

“And now you’re not,” Jin counters. “You didn’t kill the Tornan people and you certainly didn’t kill my Driver. I know you sank Titans, Malos. I haven’t forgotten the war. But I choose to let the past be the _ past. _ Mikhail needs us in the now, _ I _need you in the now. So I forgive you.”

“You heart’s too soft,” Malos snaps, albeit in a very strangled voice.

“I got it from Lora,” Jin says, and takes Malos’s hands in both of his.

Malos doesn’t say anything, but he does hold Jin’s hands tentatively in return. Below them the Cloud Sea drifts peacefully, fluffy white banks coming and going much like the waves wash against shores. Jin’s never considered himself much of a Cloud Sea lover - if anything, he belongs to the forests of Torna, now long gone - but still he has to admit that the sea looks quite beautiful on a day like this. With clear blue skies overhead and a few Medoozes floating close to the _ Marsanes _, close enough to count the tentacles, it’s very… idyllic. Almost peaceful.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Jin turns to ask Malos.

Malos says, “I guess not.” Then he shakes his head and adds, “Heh. Never thought I’d have my own ship, though.”

“Our own ship,” Jin says, and Malos grins at him, a little bit wicked, and Jin feels a surge of incredible fondness for him, which Jin then doesn’t suppress or shove away in the least, lets himself be hit by the full force of it for once.

_ “And _we stole it right out from under the priests’ noses!” Malos says in glee. “It could hardly be better than this.”

“No,” Jin agrees, quietly, and marvels at how it can feel to be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking about making them give lora a nice normal funeral at the end of the fic, but i'll see if i remember that


	6. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is, tbh, the chapter so far that resembles a filler the most, but they get a lot of important stuff done

When asleep, Mikhail looks almost like the little boy he was when Cole first met him. But then again, in sleep almost anyone can look if not young, then at least innocent. Haze and Cole sit on either side of Mikhail’s bed in the infirmary, Cole simply watching while Haze has a hand resting on Mikhail’s chest and her eyes closed, doing something no doubt complex and complicated to help him. Cole can vaguely feel Ether moving around there, if he concentrates on it.

They sit in silence for many minutes, unmoving, until at last Haze straightens up and withdraws her hand. When Cole looks at Mikhail, there’s almost no scars around the Core crystal anymore. It looks less like it’d just been cruelly shoved inside now, and more like Mikhail actually is a… Blade. 

A Blade-Eater. Someone who can do almost everything a Blade can, but doesn’t have a Driver. Which means, that really, he’s one of them now. 

“He’s stable now?” Cole asks Haze.

“Yes,” Haze says. “Humans and Blades are actually quite similar on a cellular level. That’s why organ transplants technically work between Blades and humans… if it didn’t, we’d have no Flesh or Blade Eaters. And we’d have no Mikhail.”

“Do you think he’ll be able to manifest his own weapons?”

“I think so.” Haze sighs. She says in a small voice, “I hope so. I’ve really been gone a long time, haven’t I?”

“Yeah.” Cole clears his throat. “How come you know so much about… Blade Eaters and such?”

“I’d say it’s because I’m a Healer,” Haze says. “But then again… If I’m to believe what you told me about the last few years…”

“Yeah.”

They trail off into silence, with Haze looking down at her hands and Cole wondering if he should try to comfort her, however clumsily. First losing her Driver, then being informed that she’d already had another Driver after her, who’d violated her like that - and now she’s bonded with Mikhail, which is probably the least of her problems.

Cole finally asks, “When will Mikhail wake up?”

“Soon,” Haze promises softly. “I didn’t put that much Ether into the Sleep Art…” 

Cole nods, and makes sure not to stare at Haze. He _ knows _ she’s here, really here, and that she won’t just suddenly disappear. She won’t die unless Mikhail does. For now, everything truly is alright, or at least much better than their circumstances have been in a long time. And if this positive change comes with some unwanted Jin and Malos on the side, well. Then he’ll just deal with it, won’t he? Maybe they’ll grow on him, like an acquired taste, if he just believes hard enough. Besides, he’s survived through a lot of things already. Keeping an eye on Jin and Malos can’t be a complete waste of his time, especially if he’ll be watching out for Haze and Mikhail at the same time.

Looks like he’ll be staying on this ship for a while, after all. Dammit.

* * *

After thoroughly looking through the whole ship, finding a few new rooms in the process, and searching through all the storage rooms, closets, shelves and cupboards, Jin and Malos have come to the unfortunate conclusion that: “We barely have any usable supplies. Having a ship is useless if we don’t have any food, or fuel, or even bedsheets…”

They’re all gathered in the bridge, watching Mikhail work the controls of the _ Marsanes _ while Jin explains the situation.

“We’re going to have to dock somewhere to get supplies. The Titan closest to us is Beredd. Unless anyone has any objections, we’re going there.”

No one protests, so Jin tells Mikhail to set course for the reddish-brown Beredan Titan, and they’re on their way.

There’s not much to do while waiting for them to get there. The _ Marsanes _ is tidy, nearly empty apart from crates of machine parts and similar objects; nothing Jin feels inclined to mess with. The sleeping quarters are all empty, the mess hall is barren just like the kitchen, and the corridors are abandoned. They can renovate later. For now Jin decides to stay in the bridge and simply watch how Beredd gets bigger on the screen as Mikhail steers them closer. Malos and Ontos hang back to watch too, which leads to Haze also staying, which in turn means that Cole won’t leave either, and so they all watch Beredd come closer and closer.

Beredd would look almost like Gormott from a distance, if it weren’t for the mountains on the Titan’s back. Judging by the colours alone it looks almost like Mor Ardain, but as far as Jin knows, the climate isn’t yet that hot on Beredd, even if it _ is _ dry.

“That Titan looks like Mor Ardain and Gormott’s illegitimate child,” Malos grumbles, leaning closer to Jin.

“Don’t let any Beredan hear you say that,” Jin mumbles in reply.

“Did it use to be greener?” Malos squints at the screen.

“Probably.” Jin wasn’t around for that, however, and that’s for sure. “I haven’t studied Beredan history much.” Or at all. They’re supposed to have a vibrant and fascinating culture, with many different species of creatures and old traditions and ruins - or so went the word among the mercenaries, anyway. And any country that came out of the Aegis War basically unscatched could already consider itself blessed.

Malos and Jin quietly talk some more about Beredd, with most of Malos’s observations being a little mean and most of Jin’s being speculations about the wildlife, and all the while Jin can see Haze sneaking glances at them. 

Haze doesn’t like Malos, of course.

Jin and Haze have a rather awkward relation to one another, too. There’s too much history, but also not enough – Haze is missing all 25 years since Lora’s death, has no context for why Malos stands at Jin’s side today. And Jin can’t look at Haze without remembering Lora.

So, when they’re arriving at Beredd and he’s assigning tasks for the day, Jin sends Mik and Haze to Desidia to buy what can’t simply be found in nature, and takes Ontos and Cole with him to go hunting in the Beredan wilds. Malos will mind the ship in the meantime, which he agreed to do surprisingly easily. As did everyone else, except for Cole, who wanted to go with Mik and Haze to the city. “Your face is too distinguishable,” Jin told him at that. “Your scars are too easy for someone to describe and recognise.” Cole’s forced to admit the truth in that, and so everything goes as Jin planned for it to go.

Malos lets them off at a beach near the capital city of Desidia then steers the ship away to submerge it in the Cloud Sea for a couple of hours, just like Mikhail showed him (however the kid learned that, Jin doesn’t know), keeping the ship safely out of sight, and meanwhile the rest of them split into their assigned groups and get going.

Jin’s only ever been to Beredd once, and that was many years ago, and he only visited Desidia. He’s never climbed any of the great mountains the Titan is known for, or even took a walk on a beach in Beredd, but every day brings new experiences, don’t they just.

“What a sight,” Ontos says, as they’re walking across the beach and looking up at the towering peaks. The mountains and plateaus change the shape of Beredd from something like Gormott into an entirely new climate, with the entire back of the Titan made of a giant mountain range with two of the highest peaks in Alrest among them. There’s barely any forest on Beredd, so what gives the Titan its colour is the mountains; striped in red and orange, pink and shades of brown and yellow and white. 

The plains after the beach quickly become steeper and steeper until the grass completely recedes and becomes red stone instead, turns into unclimbable mountain wall. There’s several flocks of animals grazing on the field though, including wild Armus, a few Eks and some of the dreaded Laamas native to Beredd. But if they _ don’t _ have to find some way to climb that mountain, then all the better.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Cole asks gruffly, as they stop to look out at the field.

“If each of us could kill an Armu and prepare it, then I will freeze down the meat for easy transportation…” Jin answers, absently starting to wonder about whether they could make an entire food storage room, that way. Ice has many uses.

“Alright,” Ontos agrees easily. “The Armus are the blocky ones, with short horns and grey hide?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall hunt,” Ontos says, his voice sounding nearly amused, and manifests a sword into his hand. It’s long and broad and intricate, seems to be almost transparent, and is the same colour as the milky blue sky above them. It’s spectacular.

Ontos wields it with an ease that any Blade would find attractive, and again Jin remembers that he’s an Aegis.

It’s as uncomfortable to recall as ever.

Jin shakes it off, and gets to work.

* * *

Malos spends the few hours he has to impatiently wait for them by wandering around in the _ Marsanes. _ He’s never had the time to explore a ship before, so he might as well do it. Not that there’s much to see. He cleaned up the trash himself with Jin and Ontos, so he knows exactly how empty the place is. But there’s something so very and bafflingly satisfying in striding through the empty ship corridor, boots clacking against the floor with every step, and thinking, _ yes. This is all ours. _

Eventually he finds his way down to the machine rooms, entirely dark and silent except for the glow and the hum of the engines. It’s interesting, he supposes, but he doesn’t actually get how the machinery works and feels no desire to figure it out just yet. Mikhail will probably want to run the ship himself, anyway, so why not leave all the tech problems to the kid?

Yeah. 

Because it looks like Mikhail’s staying. Jin doesn’t want to ditch Mikhail or Haze, probably not even that menace Cole, and Malos… doesn’t want to argue against that. It’s Jin’s old crew, whatever, they can stay, sure.

(it’s not like they’ve got anyone _ else _ to invite aboard, anyway)

Malos is also feeling oddly peaceful, that kind of feeling he previously could only find in the early hours of the dawn for a minute or two, or when watching over Jin in a quiet moment. The kind of peace almost foreign to him, like it’s got no place in his mind (of course it fucking doesn’t: he’s a weapon. He’s the _ Aegis) _ and it’s… uncomfortable. He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, even though deep down he strongly suspects it won’t, and that _ that’s _ the more alarming thing.

Amalthus is dead.

Malos is still here, can still feel and act, can be sure that none of it is influenced by a Driver connection. And what he feels is so fucking _ mellow, _ it’s disgusting, it’s like he’s - spent the whole rest of his existence always _ angry, _ in some sort of fog of hate or emotional extreme, refusing to see the forest for the trees and only _ now _ he can-

Every thought in his head is crystal clear, yet he’s never been more confused. There’s endless options everywhere, all the time, and he has no idea how to pick. How to even make himself choose. The only thing he’s really sure of is Jin. He’ll stay by Jin’s side as long as he’ll allow it, and oh how he wants Jin’s advice, Jin’s perspective on things, the mere way Jin speaks - he wants his presence, he wants his calm and he wants him to be at peace, he wants him to be content, he wants everything for him, with him.

But Malos helped sink Torna (though Mythra _ did _ deal the final blow) so will anything be enough, really?

He’s doubting, he’s realising a lot of terrible things, he’s feeling like shit - but still, at the same fucking time, he feels at peace. In the same way hate used to be always at the back of his mind, now there’s just nothing, silence, _ finally quiet, _and it’s like peace. The screaming’s finally stopped.

If this is how Ontos feels like all the time, then no wonder he’s always so goddamn _ calm. _

* * *

The capital city Desidia is located at the base of the Beredan Titan’s neck, and if Haze’s fuzzy old memories are to be trusted, the city looked almost the same 30 years ago. It’s a quite charming place, with clay houses in all kinds of bright bold colours and hundreds of narrow alleys, and it’s kind of cosy if you look at it from a certain perspective. It’s also crowded. Haze holds onto Mikhail’s hand tightly as they navigate the crowds, and every time she glances back at him, she expects to see a lost little kid - and instead, a young man taller than herself stares back at her. It’s very sobering.

It cuts to the Core every time she realises.

Nothing’s the same, anymore. And Mikhail’s almost all grown up.

Therefore she lets Mikhail go off into the mechanic’s section of the market by himself to search for the things he’ll need, because he knows ships better than Haze, and he probably doesn’t need her hovering around. He _ doesn’t. _ Right. So while he does that, Haze forces herself not to worry and makes herself start to look around for textiles.

They’ll need sheets, and towels, and clothes for Mikhail - maybe clothes for everyone. Mats, rags, perhaps something more that Haze is forgetting now due to never having lived in a house, too. 

The merchants in the marketplace _ all _have bright fabrics draped over their stands and tables, so it takes Haze a while to find the section that’s actually specifically reserved for the tailors and weavers. There she buys a couple of towels and few blankets from a Nopon, then she buys a few mats from another Nopon weaver, and two bags from yet a third, to store her goods in. Haze figures she’ll just buy essentials until she’s all out of money - Mikhail could surely use a blanket.

So could Jin too. Haze is almost sure.

It’s been a long time, they say, and Mi- _ Cole _ told her that she’d been that horrible Amalthus’s Blade for a few years - she’s incredibly glad she can’t remember that - and of course that Lora is gone.

Lora is gone. A sentence Haze never expected to have to hear, or think, because if Lora was gone then so too would Haze be. But it isn’t like that, it isn’t like that _ at all. _ Haze thought the pain would be overwhelming, the grief too much to bear, that she’d be in complete agony - but now she’s _ Mikhail’s _Blade and he keeps having - calm, normal emotions to counter out whatever despair or shock Haze might slip into otherwise.

_ Blasted _ Blade-Driver empathy, she can’t even - oh, Architect, everything is totally _ fine, _ except for how nothing is. She has a Driver, yes-

But he’s not Lora. Everything’s different; Haze keeps turning around and expecting to see her beloved lady there, but instead it’s Mikhail. An older Mik, too, he must be in his mid-teens at least, by the look of him.

(and what feels like a mere _ days _ ago, he’d been a little kid clinging to Haze’s skirt-)

-And before that, Amalthus had… taken her Core. Haze shudders just to think of it, and it all feels so very strange, but for now, she’s got Mikhail. And Mikhail really needs her - so Haze will carry on and be his Blade. The boy needs someone in his corner. And there’s still a lot left to do in this world, so Haze is staying; she will and she _ must, _ because people need her. And Lady Lora would surely wish her to carry on.

So she will. In defiance of everything Amalthus ever did, she’ll try.

* * *

When they all return to the Marsanes, Haze and Mik arrive carrying several bags full of stuff, and Jin, Cole and Ontos all have their arms full of frozen foodstuffs. It’s a lot better than their situation this morning and they have a lot more things now than when they’d started, which is good. But at the same time, Jin can’t forget about the fact that they barely have any decent furniture - which isn’t the biggest issue ever, granted, but it’s still good to have beds. And it’s not like they can sustainably take turns sleeping in the infirmary; that would be stupid.

Though first things first, “Let’s head to the mess and unpack all of this.”

The mess hall is, like the previous times Jin have been inside of it, very dimly lit and with no decor whatsoever. At least Jin and Malos had righted the tables last time they were here, so now there’s a place to put all of the supplies. 

Haze and Mikhail’s bags turn out to be mostly full of clothes, towels and the like, with one containing mechanical parts and a few metallic boxes. Jin assumes Mikhail knows what’s what better than any of the rest of them and doesn’t ask about it, and instead focuses on taking stock of the textiles Haze bought. There’s a lot of fabric, and Haze is good at picking out things like this - or at least she _ was, _ years ago. Jin doesn’t think that’s changed, but-

Maybe he shouldn’t make any assumptions about Haze, nevertheless.

Either way, there’s towels and sheets and what seems to be a few mats, and… clothes.

For Mikhail, as Jin then realises.

“Good,” Jin says out loud. “Thank you, Haze and Mikhail. I suppose that next we’ll need to put these away…”

Malos and Cole help Jin move the foodstuffs into an empty storage cupboard, where he then freezes them down even more thoroughly. That should keep them fresh for a while. When the three of them return to the mess, Ontos is the only one still there. When they enter, he rises from the table he’d been sitting on and says, “Are we all set, now?”

“For the next week,” Jin answers. “Maybe.”

The vague little checklist he’s been writing in his head isn’t nearly done yet, but it’s something.

Ontos hums at this and clasps his hands together, leans back against the table. “I’ve helped you slay a man, rescue two others, and to gather food, and I have learned many things about this world. It’s a fascinating place. But still, I have one request of you…”

“Yes?” Malos asks gruffly, stepping forward.

“That you will help me find Pneuma,” Ontos says. His eyes are silver and completely unreadable in his dark face.

“Pneuma,” Malos repeats, flatly. Jin glances at him.

“Who’s Pneuma?” Cole asks, frowning.

“She’s the third Aegis, of course,” says Ontos serenely, like that isn’t something monumental and insane, like he couldn’t have _ told them this fact earlier. _

Malos doesn’t look that shocked though, so he must have suspected - _ something. _Hasn’t he? Jin himself had no way of connecting ‘Pneuma’ to ‘Mythra, she who destroyed Torna’ - he didn’t even know there’s some such thing as second names for the Aegises, or whatever it is this means. 

Or maybe Ontos is mistaken.

(how could he be?)

“And why didn’t you say something about this earlier?” Cole demands. “Is _ that _the reason you’ve been hanging with these two? Because you’re looking for Mythra?”

“Yes,” Ontos says, infuriatingly calmly. “Does she call herself Mythra? Are you a friend of hers?”

_ “Was,” _ says Cole through gritted teeth.

“She’s gone,” says Malos flatly.

“No one’s seen her since… since the end of the war.”

When she’d created Pyra; poor thing, a persona only made because Mythra couldn’t handle the weight of what she’d done. And then Pyra and Addam had left, and since then no one had heard anything more substantial than a rumour about them in years.

“That’s curious,” Ontos says to this, and makes an expression that could be described as a ‘mild frown’. “So she’s been hiding, for years?”

“You could say that,” Cole says grimly. “The last one to see her must’ve been Addam, her Driver…” Cole trails off. “Say, what do you want with Mythra, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Malos says. “What’s your goal, Ontos?”

Ontos smiles. “Can’t a man simply wish to see his family? Ah well. There’s a few things I’d like to discuss with her, actually.”

Jin then gets to watch as, amazingly, _ Malos _ and _ Cole _ share a look.

Then Cole sighs, pushes his bangs back, and says, “Fine. Guess I’ll take you to see Addam, then, so you can ask him yourself where the hell she’s gone.”

“You know where Addam is?” Jin asks, feeling curious despite himself. Jin had never looked very hard for Addam, but still…

“Sure I do,” Cole says. “He’s in Leftheria.”


	7. Wait For It

At first, Malos had wanted to find Mythra. To fight her again, get some kind of revenge, a Core for a Core. To make her-

Well, he’d never gotten anywhere with that, had he? After his recovery he’d looked in all kinds of places for news about Mythra’s whereabouts, and every source had told him that she’d disappeared. That she was gone. That after the Aegis War both of the Aegises had simply ceased to exist, which fucking obviously was a lie, and that only told him one thing: Mythra had gone underground.

He’d never find her like that.

So he quit with that and found Jin instead, and now, roughly five years later, here they are. Standing around in the bridge of the _ Marsanes, _ watching Mikhail carefully try and dock their gigantic ship at a truly pitifully small island in the Leftherian archipelago. On another, bigger island farther away Malos can see something that might be a village - “Hero’s Rest,” Cole had said - but really, this place is the rock bottom of civilisation. 

Haze takes a look at the view and says, “I can see why Addam chose to settle down here.”

Yeah, the hermit life has to be great out here. Malos snorts.

“Isn’t the royal Spirit Crucible located around here, somewhere?” Jin wonders out loud.

Haze answers, after glancing briefly at Jin - and Malos, who’s standing next to him and holding his hand smugly, “Yes, I think so. It’s supposedly a part of the archipelago…”

“Fascinating,” Ontos says. He’d been humming quietly up until now. “Would one of you mind telling me more about this ‘Addam’, perchance? He sounds like an interesting fellow.”

“We’re not going to murder him too, don’t worry,” Malos quips before anyone can stop him.

“Thank you, Malos,” Haze says frostily, and then turns to Ontos with a smile. “Addam is - _ was _ \- a prince of Torna, before the Titan and the country fell. He was also a friend of my- of Jin’s old Driver, and a good man. It’s been so long since then, though…” 

“Hmm,” Ontos hums, and then an awkward silence settles over the room.

Malos is just about to say something that would make one or several people mad at him, just to break the quiet, when Mikhail announces, “I’ve _ finally _ docked. Fuck these tiny shores. We can exit the ship now, if you want.”

“Brilliant,” Jin says, authoritatively. “Thank you, Mik. Everyone, let us go.”

And off they all go, down to the ship entrance and out into the sunset. Night is falling in Alrest, which doesn’t mean shit in Leftheria - the sand is still wet, there’s animals hiding everywhere in the grass, and there’s no cities to speak off. All it means is that it gets a little darker, which suits Malos just fine.

Together they trek down along a narrow path towards the village, and Malos and Jin hang back to form the rear of the group, pulling down the hoods on their cloaks. A tiny village in the middle of nowhere is still inhabited by humans, unfortunately, who gossip and chatter and spread rumours, running around like rats. Better to not let their faces be seen at all.

Cole takes the lead, and leads them all through the village and away to its outskirts (as much as a tiny wooden hut village can _ have _ an ‘outskirt’) where a lonely little house, made out of white stone with logs for a roof, stands. There’s curtains pulled in front of the windows, but from behind them there’s light seeping out. Someone’s still awake, then. Cole stops in front of the house and says, unceremoniously, “Here it is. The house of Addam Origo, who was once a great hero.”

“Alright,” Ontos says. “Should I knock?”

“Yes,” Haze says. “That’s the polite thing to do…”

Then Ontos takes a step forward at the same time as everyone else takes a step backward, Malos grits his teeth and Jin squeezes his hand too tightly, and Ontos knocks on the door. 

It takes a while before anyone opens. Malos can hear the footsteps from inside as they approach the door, then there’s a bit of fumbling to actually open the door, and then an old man pushes the door open and stares at Ontos, then past him and at the rest of them. Then he gapes at them. His hair’s as white as it was more than 25 years ago, but he’s all… wrinkled.

Mortality does _ not _ look good in the least.

“Ah…” Addam Origo says, and swallows. His eyes keep flitting between the members of their group, and he struggles to look at most of them. Hah.

“Howdy,” Cole says from behind Ontos, and pushes him out of the way. “Old friend. Could we maybe take this discussion inside, my prince?”

“You know I’m not a prince, right?” Addam says, even as his eyes flit over to Malos, who smirks at him. “That’s Malos,” Addam then says-

And then he laughs. “And Lora’s Blades. What on Alrest…”

“Could we maybe hurry up a bit?” Mikhail then pipes up, and Addam’s eyes widen a little more as he looks at Mik with dawning understanding.

And as fun as all this drama is, Malos really fucking agrees with Mikhail.

_ “Mik?” _ Addam asks, incredulously. “I thought - I mean - well, alright, come on in then…”

He turns and wanders slowly back inside the house, and one by one their group of six follow him inside. Apparently Addam’s become quite docile in his old age - mortality_ really _ doesn’t look good. 

The house is well furnished on the inside; lots of furniture, but mostly he’s got _ a lot _of stuff. Mats cover every inch of the floor, there’s tapestries and paintings and shields and swords and old notes and recipes and maps pinned to the walls, and in the room they first enter there’s a massive wooden table heaped with clutter with two benches in the middle, and a kitchen off to one side, an unmade bed with about ten pillows on the other. There’s potted plants and candles and relics, pots and pans and jars filled with things, carved wooden toys, a stack of shoes in the corner, two full-to-bursting bookshelves and some sort of things hanging from the ceiling, among them a feathered lamp, a bunch of dried bouquets on a string and a massive frying pan.

Malos has never seen this much clutter in all his life, and first it horrifies him. 

Then he gets it. Why _ not _ hoard a bunch of things you like up in one place, and make it so horribly cluttered that the monks in the Praetorium would weep upon seeing it? That’s the fucking dream, right there.

-it also takes Malos almost a minute to spot the kid sitting at the table, thanks to all the stuff.

“This is my son,” Addam tells Cole, and sits down at the table next to the boy and says, “This is Cole, son, remember what I told you about him?”

The kid nods. He looks about ten, maybe, how should Malos know - at least he’s definitely much younger than Mikhail. 

“Good. These other people are…”

“My crew,” Cole says, and immediately looks like he bit into a lemon. Yeah, pal. “It’s nice to meet you, kid.”

“We’re looking for… Mythra, was it?” Ontos says, and steps forward. He looks very polite. Addam will probably appreciate that.

Addam frowns and says, “What for?”

“I wish to speak with her,” Ontos says.

Addam shakes his head, but doesn’t get to answer before Cole says, “This is the third Aegis; Ontos. Make with that what you will, my prince.”

“Not a prince,” Addam says. Then he laughs and adds, “And the third Aegis? Really?”

“What’s an Aegis?” the Kid asks, curiously. Where the hell is his mother, anyway?

“The most powerful Blades in Alrest,” Cole answers, patiently. “There’s only three of them, and they’ve all got unimaginable power.” He sounds rather weary of that fact.

“Wow,” the Kid says.

“Okay,” Addam interrupts. “You have this Ontos here, and Malos - and now you want to find Mythra, too?” He narrows his eyes and asks again, “Why?”

Unsurprisingly, it seems Addam doesn’t trust them.

“I need to speak with her,” Ontos repeats. “Aegis-to-Aegis.”

“But _ why?” _

Everyone’s looking at Ontos now, who just stands there.

“Because I think there’s a big flaw with this world, seeing as it’s been missing one third of its - Aegises, for almost its entire history.” Ontos spreads his hands. “The Blades. Is it not so, that they continuously lose their memories? That they must always bond with a Driver to even exist?”

“Yes,” Jin says, looking at Ontos with a carefully blank expression.

Ontos nods and says, way too fucking casually, “With Logos and Pneuma’s - that is to say, Malos and Mythra’s - help, I might be able to do something to fix that.”

The room descends into chaos. Haze, Cole, Addam and the Kid all start talking over each other and Malos doesn’t give a shit about that, instead he looks at Jin, all his focus immediately on him. It takes Jin a moment to meet his eyes, but when he does… they’re both thinking the same thing, Malos would wager.

This is - if what Ontos said is true, _ this _ is what Jin - and Malos, too, sure - have been waiting for. Something that could free the Blades from this stupid fucking cycle the Architect has them trapped in, the cycle that made Jin tear out his own Driver’s heart just to survive, breaking himself in the process. This _ fucking _ cycle, that left Jin grieving and half-dead on the street in Mor Ardain.

This is what all of Blade-kind has been _ waiting for. _

If it, against all the odds and all common sense, is somehow true. Yeah, Ontos is an Aegis, but _ that _much power? That much knowledge of what makes this world tick? Malos won’t believe Ontos has actually got it until he sees it.

Jin desperately wants to believe it, though, if Malos really knows him. So Ontos _ better _ not be making any empty promises.

“Okay, alright!” Addam Origo says, cutting over the chatter. “Settle down please, everyone… Ontos-”

“Yes?” Ontos says, turning to face Addam.

“I… must admit you seem to have a valid reason, a good purpose for wanting to find her.” Addam narrows his eyes and sizes Ontos up. “And Minoth does not trust lightly-”

“Honestly, I’m just the messenger,” Cole says. 

“-but are you _ absolutely _ certain of this? She won’t be happy to be awoken, and once you’ve done it, there’s no going back.”

“I am certain,” Ontos says simply.

“The world isn’t ready for her,” Addam says, looking a hundred years old and with the weight of Torna on his shoulders. Tough luck, old man. 

“I am,” Ontos says, like that’s just a fucking common truth of the universe. “I am an Aegis, and I am absolutely certain, Prince Addam.”

Addam heaves a deep, long sigh. _ “Not _ a prince. So there’s no use deterring all of you,” he grumbles. _ Duh. _ “Mythra herself asked to be sealed away, so that’s what I did. She’s sealed away in a pod aboard a Tornan warship that I sank at the very edge of the charted sea. Nuncle can show you the way-” Cole groans, and Haze and Jin share a quick look before remembering that they don’t talk anymore, and Malos starts to suspect just _ who _ Addam meant. “-he’s been watching over the village these last few years, if you go out and shout for him I’m sure he’ll show up. Eventually.”

Ontos nods with great interest.

Cole says, “Thank you, Addam. I should’ve visited-”

Addam waves his excuse away. “No, no, don’t you worry about it, old friend. I’ve been busy tending to the crops, and taking care of my son ever since my wife died…”

“Oh, no.” Haze says, sadly. “I’m so sorry, Addam.”

“My condolences,” Cole says, too.

“It was years ago,” Addam says, softly. “Just seeing all of you again - it’s been a gift bigger than any words could express.”

“The same goes for you,” Cole promises and puts a hand on Addam’s shoulder. Then they share a really weird moment of eye contact, which Malos stops spying on because it’s just too… emotional. Bah.

Their group then picks themselves up and is halfway out the door already when Addam shouts, ”Wait! Minoth! Bring a Leftherian with ya, they’re the only ones that can open the door!”

Malos mutters, “You sure have been making some shitty puzzles for an old man,” and the only one who hears that is Mikhail, who _ really _ fucking unexpectedly snorts and slaps Malos’s back.

“A Leftherian? What Leftherian…” Cole begins, but then there’s a voice from inside Addam’s house shouting,

“I’m a Leftherian!” The Kid appears in the doorway next to Addam and says, “Hey dad, can I go with them? Please? Pretty, pretty please?”

“Son, there is _ no way-” _ Addam begins.

“Addam, I could protect him,” Haze interjects. “If your son wishes to go, you have my word that he will come to no harm.”

“Mine as well,” Cole adds.

Even Jin steps forward and says softly, “And mine, for whatever it’s worth.”

Malos stays quiet behind Jin.

“You,” Addam begins, but his son beats him to the punch.

“Please, dad?” The Kid begs, with big, _ big _ yellow eyes. “Your old friends would let me come with them, right? Please?”

“I-” Addam says, and sighs. “Fine! But if you aren’t back within a month, then…”

“We’ll be back,” Cole promises, softly. 

“With your son,” Haze adds.

“Yes!” the Kid says in unholy glee, pumping a fist in the air, and then they all have to wait for him to pack a little knapsack and grab a dusty old sword from a shelf, because apparently they can’t leave without him since they absolutely _ need _ a Leftherian, and the Kid’s mom was Leftherian, and then, when the Kid’s done, _ finally, _ they head out into the village.

* * *

Night-time in the Leftherian Archipelago is very blue-tinted, with deep shadows behind every house and stone and shrub. Jin walks at the rear of the group with Malos once again, holding his hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb almost absently as he mulls over what Ontos and Addam said. That Ontos could free the Blades, Jin’s people, from their terrible cycle of death and forgetting and rebirth - it sounds too good to be true. Nevertheless, Ontos _ is _ an Aegis...

Jin misses Lora. 

And, absurdly, he misses Haze.

Haze is walking just a little bit in front of him, talking quietly with Cole, but Jin still misses how… simple everything was back then. Life wasn’t easy, of course, but at least they could always trust in the fact that the two others of their trio would always be there for them, when needed. That 25 years of distance wouldn’t ever come between them. Maybe it’s mostly just in Jin’s mind, but he doesn’t… know how to reach out again. How to talk to the old Haze, when he himself is so very different, so very changed.

It’s a problem for a later date he reckons, as they reach one of the beaches of Fonsett island. It’s the largest one, and located just below the village. Ontos obviously took Addam’s words to heart, as the next thing he does after halting at the edge of the water is to call out to the night: _ “Nuncle?” _

Mikhail stifles a snicker, as does Malos. 

-then the both of them take a quick step backwards, as one of the cliffs in the sea moves, unfurling a long, long neck with a great horned head and two yellow eyes, glimmering in the dark, that peers down at them critically. His voice when he speaks is a rumble even gravellier than it was last time Jin saw him, and what the elderly Titan says is: “You’re not Addam.”

“Indeed not,” Ontos says mildly. “My name is Ontos.”

Azurda squints at him, then seems to notice the others. “You’ve brought… quite the group with you…”

“We’re looking for Mythra,” Cole says resignedly. “Addam said you’d know the way, Azurda.”

“Yeah!” the Kid exclaims. “Nuncle knows everything.”

“And you have Addam’s son with you…” Azurda grumbles. “Well then. Couldn’t you have come at a slightly earlier time?! It’s the middle of the night!”

“Sorry,” Haze says, but she’s amused, Jin can tell. 

“And we’re wasting time,” Malos says, which makes Azurda’s eyes narrow and his nostrils flare as he spots him. Jin stands his ground and looks at Azurda calmly, and doesn’t move away from Malos, who huffs, annoyed.

“Jin,” Azurda says, at once deadly serious again. “And Malos. I see you’re getting along awfully well.”

“War changes a man,” Jin says airily, letting Azurda take whatever he pleases out of that answer. Jin doesn’t care for Azurda’s opinions nor the old fool of a Titan himself. Haze, Mikhail, even Cole? Yes. But not Azurda.

Ontos’s crystal by his throat gleams as he moves, and he looks almost ghostly in the dark of night. “Azurda,” he says. “I ask only that you show us the way. Will you lend us your aid?”

“Yes. But_ only _ because you’ve got Addam’s kid with you.”

“Good,” Jin says curtly. “Everyone, back to the _ Marsanes. _ We’ll follow Azurda at a distance.”

He thinks Azurda is probably giving the lot of them a stink-eye as they turn around to head back to their ship, but Jin can’t be sure. And he doesn’t want to. In front of him Haze, Cole and Mikhail are talking and debating something, and in front of them Ontos is telling the Kid something in a voice too low for Jin to catch, but the Kid’s watching with rapt attention and a grin, so it can’t be too bad.

It’s not too bad in general, Jin supposes. He misses Lora like a wound that’s constantly aching, with a pain that flares up worse occasionally but never completely fades, but he’ll live. He’s lived through it so far, even if it was just barely, with gritted teeth and desperation and memories haunting him every step of the way - and he doesn’t care what Azurda thinks about any of it. Or anyone else.

The only people who truly matters to him are _ right _ here, and that’s all Jin cares about.

* * *

Back in the _ Marsanes, _ Mikhail quickly glues himself back to the consoles and starts the engines. When he focuses on the ship he seems to care about nothing else, focusing utterly on the engines and systems, and Haze has no idea where he learnt any of it. It’s incredibly impressive, of course - none of their crew were very good captains, even though Hugo wasn’t half bad at engineering - but Haze… can’t help but wonder about Mikhail.

She doesn’t know what he’s thinking. She has no idea about anything that he even _ could _ be thinking, reasonably, considering his past experiences.

Haze can somewhat feel his emotions, yes - but they’re oddly flat, neutral and calm most of the time. Maybe that’s the focus. And sometimes anger or glee or excitement flares up briefly-

He’s not Lady Lora.

Haze has found out that she can remember dying. She remembers the battlefield in Spessia, trying to flee and protect little Mikhail at the same time as cannons fired and explosions went off all around them - how between one step and the next, Haze felt something vital in her break. She’d lost her grip on Mik’s arm and stumbled, felt herself slam into the ground and then realised she couldn’t feel or see anything anymore, and _ Lora was gone- _

It’s been 25 years since then, and Haze hasn’t even spoken to - anyone, about it. Not really. 

She has barely even spoken with Jin, so far - but she’s seen the red crystal in his forehead, and she knows what happened. She thinks she understands, even though she feels such a horrible _ absence _ of grief thanks to Mikhail’s influence in the back of her head. She feels complete - because she’s never known anything else, except for that brief second as Lora died; she can’t remember what Amalthus did to her, and as far as her damn _ Core _ is concerned, it’s unhurt and bonded to a Driver, which is all it cares about.

Not that it _ isn’t _ bonded to Lady Lora anymore, or that it was once split in two - her Core has all the essentials it needs to support Haze’s continued existence, and as a primitive system without thought, a simple _ organ, _ nothing else matters to it.

And Haze has not a single scar or mark on her. Her Core is perfect and whole. Not even her _ memories _ have been tainted or taken by Amalthus, nor her thoughts-

_ But she knows it happened anyway. _

Amalthus took her and _ used _ her, broke her Core, after he had killed her _ Lady Lora- _

It’s a crime unforgivable, and now Amalthus is dead. Just like that. He’ll never hurt anyone else again, _ Haze knows this logically, _ so why can it be so hard to get over what he did to her? It’s over. It’s over, Ontos killed that - that horrible murderer, so why can’t Haze stop thinking about it? Picking at it like it’s a scab, waiting and waiting for it to bleed?

At least she can talk to Cole, and _ oh, _ Cole. He’d been living for _ years _as Amalthus’s Blade and he remembers every single one of them, he’s got the scars on his Core and in his mind. And when she thinks of the alternative, Haze thinks that maybe she’s glad she can’t remember any of it, after all. Even if she’ll never know… exactly what she did or had done to her in Indol, at least she can’t have nightmares about it, this way.

She’s their Healer, now, and they all need her. She won’t fail them, and especially not little Mikhail. She won’t.

Blades weren’t made to be able to move on, but she can and she will.

If she has the chance to help more people now, people like them, then she’ll grab it with _ both hands, _her past be damned.

* * *

The Cloud Sea is completely barren apart from the Titans and ships, just like it’s always been. In the deeps there might be stuff hidden, but above the surface is only clouds and mist and an endless horizon. And in the middle of it all, the World Tree, of course. They turn the ship so that the Tree’s at their back, and set out.

It’s well into morning when they finally reach the general area of where that ship was supposedly sunk, and everyone’s grumpy and annoyed. The Titan, after swimming farther and farther away from civilisation for hours, finally comes to a stop and looks up at the ship, and Mikhail says, “I think… I’m going to scan the area.”

“So this is the right spot?” Ontos asks curiously. The screen shows them nothing, just a view of the sea and the sky and a grumpy old Titan.

“Might be,” Mikhail says, ignoring Ontos to focus completely on the consoles. More things start to show up on the screen as he types, graphs and readings and some kinds of countdowns - Malos catches sight of a fuel gauge and a little screen listing specifics about the weather situation, and some kind of clock - and then finally Mikhail seems to find what he’s looking for. After making a tiny black window appear on-screen, he then moves it to the middle and enlarges it so that it covers Azurda’s frown.

The black screen has some things in colour happening on it, and after a second Malos realises the black goes in different shades too - it’s showing the Cloud Sea depth level. Malos guesses it’s fairly deep water here, then. In fact, the whole screen situation really reminds him of the Artifice cockpits - they always showed him tons and tons of useless data, like atmospheric composition and his own goddamn vitals.

Anyway, the Marsanes then finds something _ really _ interesting on the Cloud Sea floor - though it might not even be on the very bottom yet, Malos suspects - and starts throwing around a lot of different colours and exclamation marks.

“Ah! There’s the ship,” Ontos says brightly.

“Looks like it,” Malos grumbles. “It’s fucking huge, what a waste of resources…”

“You’ve found the ship?” Cole asks, gruffly. “Is that what the glob’s supposed to be?”

“Yeah,” Mikhail agrees absently, obviously distracted. “I’m going to try getting a better view-”

Then Jin says, “What is that red dot in the middle, then?” which obviously makes Malos glance back up at the screen, and oh hey-

“Heat signature,” Malos says.

“That has to be her,” Ontos agrees. “Mikhail, how deep down is the sunken ship?”

“It’s… I don’t think we can reach it. It’s too many peds to ever dive, and we can’t open the doors on _ Marsanes _ while it’s submerged.” Mikhail sounds frustrated, which is exactly how Malos feels after this long stupid trip.

“No,” Ontos says. “There must be a way.”

“Can’t you do something useful?” Malos snaps. “You’re an Aegis.”

Ontos says, “No actually.” He’s frowning when he then adds, “But my foresight is telling me, that you might find your future unpleasant if you keep bothering me.”

_ Damn, _ Ontos is threatening him. Malos shuts up, because he’s not completely stupid, but he feels pretty damn smug anyway.

From beside Malos, Jin speaks up. “You said that you could help us Blades live without our Drivers, if only you could talk to Mythra, yes?”

“Yes.” Ontos’s answer is curt.

“Well then. If we need something hauled up, we should obviously hire a few Salvagers to do it.”

“Of course!” the Kid exclaims. “Salvagers could totally dive that deep, I know it!”

Ontos cocks his head. “Salvagers, you say? Where might one find some, then?”

“The Nopon Trade Guilds!” the Kid says.

“He’s right,” says Cole, grudgingly. “There are a lot of Salvagers working at the Trade Guilds. Shouldn’t be too hard to hire a few.”

“The Argentum Trade Guild’s vessel ‘Goldmouth’ is the closest to our current position,” Mikhail tells them. “You wanna go?”

“In a while,” Jin says. “We all should get some rest first.” He looks at the screen for a moment then adds, “And get some more readings of the ship. We might need more information about the depth and size before we hire any Salvagers…”

* * *

Jin defrosts some food that Malos then helps him prepare, and then they all eat together in the mess hall. After having to actually use the kitchen - and he really ought to remember to_ eat _more often, lest his body start breaking down - Jin’s realised that they really should get some more things. There’s so many resources they need: G, furniture, kitchen supplies, more food-

How do people ever manage to live in a house? There’s so much to remember.

“Mikhail,” Jin says and looks over at Mik’s table, as their shared dinner time is winding down. “Would you say that this ship could actually be lived in for a longer time? By human standards?”

Addam’s kid glances up at that, probably aware that he’s the only human aboard. Even though it’s not like a single one of them is completely a Blade, either, except for Haze.

“Probably. I mean, this is one of the heavy-duty battleships, made to always have at least a skeleton crew aboard if not a bunch of soldiers too.” Mikhail trails off. “I think. The machinery is all working though, and so’s the plumbing. The lights system ought to be renovated-”

“Could you do that?” Jin asks him. He’s… genuinely wondering whether Mik_ could. _ And how in the world he learned all the other things he knows, too.

“I… could do that,” Mik says. “I’m smart, I’ve got this.” He grins confidently at Jin, which is so unexpected it takes Jin a second to even process it. Little Mikhail never, ever grinned.

“Mikhail,” Haze then says, from where she’s sitting opposite Mikhail. “How come you… know all this engineering stuff, anyway?”

“Indeed,” Ontos says, from his own table. “You’re a very talented young man, Mikhail...”

Malos clasps his hands under his chin and leans forward a bit. Jin just waits.

“It’s nothing,” Mikhail says quickly. “I don’t know, maybe it’s my Core. What does it even matter?”

“Your Core,” Jin echoes. He glances at Haze, as the resident Healer here. “Do you think…”

“That - whoever Blade he was fused with, gave him some skills?” Haze asks, slowly. “I… guess that’s possible. Blades and humans aren’t usually - fused like that, that completely, but…”

Mikhail’s frowning again. He looks down at his plate then says, “I think I’m gonna take a look at the lights system, actually. See y’all tomorrow.”

He’s up from the table and out of the hall before anyone thinks to stop him. Jin sighs. Lora was a very determined, helpful teenager, and it’s been so long since then… and Jin doesn’t even have a direct link to Mikhail’s emotions.

This is not a battle Jin’s prepared to handle. 

“I suppose we should get around to - picking out bedrooms?” Jin suggests wearily. “We’ve got some bunk beds somewhere, and then there’s the blankets Haze bought…”

He glances at her.

“I’ll go check on Mikhail,” Haze says to that, with an awkward pinched expression. “I’ll pass on the message.”

Then Haze, too, leaves.

“Can I get my own bedroom?” Addam’s kid asks.

After waiting a moment for someone else to answer, Jin then sighs and says, “Why not. Go ahead.”

Cole leaves quickly after the Kid does, and then it’s only Malos and Ontos left in the mess hall with Jin. They gather up the plates and take them back to the kitchen, which is separated from the mess hall only by a counter and half a wall. You could put bar stools by that counter, Jin thinks, and files away the thought for later use. Together they clean up a little, Malos dead silent and Ontos humming an unfamiliar tune under his breath.

When they’re done, Jin picks an empty room and goes to bed.

* * *

Haze has been aboard many ships, but this is the first Tornan battleship she’s been on. That said, the layout is quite similar to Ardainian warships, and her link to Mikhail can easily be used as a compass to find him. He’s down in the machine rooms, where everything is dark and the air’s stuffy and the low hum of the machinery drowns out the sound of her footsteps.

Mikhail’s sitting on the floor and picking at the innards of something with a pair of pincers. He’s got a toolbox next to him, just barely visible thanks to the glow of the machines, and Haze can feel an echo of his steady focus through their bond.

She doesn’t say anything, at first. She sits down next to him, and Mikhail pauses - and then resumes whatever it is he’s working on. 

That’s okay. Haze can wait until he wants to talk.

At last Mikhail turns around and asks briskly, “How do you summon forth a weapon?”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” Haze asks mildly.

Mikhail shrugs to that, maybe. It’s hard to tell in the dark. “You’re here. Might as well ask something useful.”

Haze carefully picks her next words. “Mikhail, you’ve got all the time in the world to figure things out. You don’t need to… be useful.”

Mikhail makes a small undecipherable sound in answer to that and then says, “Maybe I just want a weapon, Haze? Maybe I just want to be able to do this very basic thing that every other Blade in Alrest can do? Huh?”

“Okay then,” Haze agrees. “But we’ll have to get up for that.”

Mikhail drops his tools and gets up, and Haze follows. They go to stand in the middle of the room, where there’s nothing in the way, and Haze slowly draws her staff.

“You need to feel your Ether,” she tells him, and lets her staff dissipate again. “Feel it, and then all you need is the intent to draw your weapon. Hold your hands out to catch it.”

There’s a long silence, in which nothing happens. Mikhail moves his hands in a very deliberate move a few times, but no weapon appears.

Haze carefully does not feel worried.

“Can you feel your Ether?” she asks.

“Yes,” Mikhail bites out. “It’s all around us.”

Haze looks at the darkness surrounding them and thinks, _ ah. _

“Then, intent.” If she were Malos, this is when she’d surprise-attack Mikhail to give him some motivation. Haze isn’t that kind of teacher, though. “You have to want it, to _ need _ it. No doubt, no hesitation. Just take it.”

“Never figured _ you’d _ be the one giving me this talk,” Mikhail mutters.

“Then who’d you figure?” Haze banters back.

“Some asshole from the Praetorium,” Mikhail quips back, casually, and Haze winces with her entire body.

Mikhail must notice, seeing perfectly through the dark, because he softens his voice and adds, “I’m very glad it’s you.”

“So am I,” Haze says, but the humour’s already gone from the room. “So am I.”

Mikhail tries a few more times to bring out his weapons, and this time Haze thinks she can see a few flickers of Ether around his hands, feel the Dark Ether gathering there. Seems like he will be dual-wielding once (if he ever) manages to summon forth any weapons. There’s no reason he _ shouldn’t _ be able to summon any weapons - but there’s no reason for why he _ should _ be able to, either, because he’s right between human and Blade and nature was never designed for this.

Haze says, “Think about something that makes you angry. Something that you’d fight. Something you’d need your weapons for.”

Mikhail growls but tries again. And again. And then there’s a burst of Ether and he whoops, and Haze can see the glow of two Ether-blue fans even through the sudden pitch darkness as he whirls around with them and does a beginner’s Art.

Ether particles scatter like feathers, glittering with purple Ether as they disappear, and Haze feels pretty proud. It’s odd, sure, to have a Driver who’s also a Blade - but getting to show Mikhail the ropes, teach him about Blade stuff?

Haze wants that.

She _ wants _ to stay with Mikhail and help him figure his life out, Haze realises with startling intensity. She wants to stay with Jin and all the strays he’s taken in, not because she’s particularly loyal to Jin or anything, but because she _ is one of them now. _ And they need her.

As long as she’s got _ someone _ to fight for, she can center herself around that and stand calm in the face of anything. But without that- she feels as lost as any other Blade, though she’ll try not to show it.

-just like Mikhail, who is no doubt hiding some deep wounds, too.

“Did you see that?” Mik exclaims, after the Ether from his art has dissipated.

“Most of it,” Haze says. “You did it, Mik!”

“Yeah.” He goes quiet. Haze can’t see him through the dark, but she can feel the change in the mood anyway.

“Mik?” Haze asks softly.

“I - it’s so unfair that Milton isn’t-” Mikhail trails off. Then he says, bitterly, “Do you know, I actually blamed Mythra for Milton’s death?”

Haze can’t think of anything to say fast enough.

Mikhail says, quieter, “I don’t, anymore. It was all Indol’s fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Haze whispers. “You were just a kid but we all-”

“No,” Mik says. “Haze, you and Lora and Jin were the closest thing I’ve had to family. Or whatever. Don’t feel guilty about it.”

Haze is going to feel sad about it no matter what, but- it’s nice to know that Mikhail appreciated his time with them.

“Okay,” Haze says. Then she clears her throat and says, “Since you’ve managed to summon your weapons now, how would you feel about trying to _ spar _a little?”

* * *

Malos wakes because of the cold.

It takes him a second, but then he’s rolling off the bed and stumbling up, rushing out into the corridor. If the cold’s seeping through the wall to Malos’s room_ then _ \- oh look, Haze has also woken - then that means Jin’s not okay.

Malos gets to Jin’s door first, getting it open just as Haze says, “What is _ wrong-” _

“It’s Jin,” Malos says, and steps into the room, Haze right behind him like an angry but clingy little creature. “His biology is _ kind of _ different from a regular Blade’s.”

There’s a fine mist in the air in Jin’s room, and Jin himself is deathly pale where he’s lying on a cot, and Malos quickly kneels by his side.

“Don’t patronise me,” Haze snaps. “I’m a Healer. Has this happened to him before, or is it-”

“It’s normal.” Malos presses a hand to Jin’s forehead; it’s cold like ice.

“It’s _ normal?” _ Haze sounds outraged. “This just happens every night and you didn’t think to maybe tell the rest of us? He’s in danger!”

“It was better for a while,” Malos growls. They had been handling it together, because Ether transferral is easy even for a broken Aegis, and Malos thought they were done with this goddamn _ bullshit, _ why can’t Jin just be okay? “I thought Jin had gotten his Ether under control, I thought we were _ over _ this...”

Haze sits down next to Malos, and puts a hand on Jin’s chest, doing whatever the fuck it is Healers do. Malos pays her no mind and focuses on drawing away the harmful excess of Ether that has somehow built up again, taking care to do it as painlessly as possible. 

Jin stirs and immediately groans and screws his eyes shut. Malos doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but he does spare a second to glare a little at Haze, who glares right back at him, not stopping with whatever she’s doing either. “Becoming a Flesh Eater is never healthy for a Blade,” Haze then says. “But for now, Jin’s only suffering from too much excess Ether.” She adds, lastly but obviously very reluctantly, “Keep doing your thing.”

Malos keeps doing his thing, but definitely not because Haze told him to.

It doesn’t take long before Malos gets the situation under control and Jin pushes them away so that he can sit up. He rubs at his temples then says, hoarsely, “I am sorry for waking you, Haze.”

“Don’t be,” Haze says. “Was this the first time it’s happened in a while?”

“Yes. I thought these episodes were over with…” Jin keeps rubbing at his face blearily, and Malos wishes he could just fix Jin’s Core. But he can’t. It’s far too complex - even at his full power Malos couldn’t have done something like that.

Haze continues. “And Malos... has managed to help you every time?”

“Yes.”

Haze is silent for a while, and Malos looks at Jin. His eyes are closed but he doesn’t look like he’s in pain anymore. Good.

“I could move into your room,” Malos suggests to Jin. “So that if this happens again…” It _ better _not-

“Then you’ll have it handled,” Haze concludes. She sighs. 

“That could work,” Jin says.

“Great,” Malos says. “I’ll bring my stuff.”

Haze sighs again, but when Malos gets up to go fetch his things, Haze gets up too and goes back to her own room, leaving Jin and Malos to their own devices. Which suits Malos just fine.

* * *

Come morning, which in this case means evening thanks to that overgrown lizard’s fetch quest, and they’re all back to standing around in the bridge and staring over Mikhail’s shoulder as he steers the _ Marsanes _ closer to the Goldmouth, the hottest part of the Argentum Trade Guild. Thanks to running around in the most uninhabited places in Alrest for a bit, Argentum now looks like an overwhelming mass of commerce, scamming and first-class Nopon deceit. With crowds of humans too, that only serve to make it worse.

Thank fuck there’s already a few hulking behemoth ships docked around Argentum, that at least will make it easier for the _ Marsanes _ to blend in. Though when Mikhail attempts to dock, no one stops him, and that’s… suspicious.

Malos and Jin share a look. They’ve already put on their armour and cloaks, obviously, they’d never go out in broad daylight without them - now the _ others, _ though-

Jin asks, “Cole, could you and the kid stay on the ship? I don’t want any dock authorities to try something, and if you stayed on the ship it’d help a great deal.”

Cole turns an unimpressed look on Jin and says, “Why don’t you and Malos stay on the ship with the kid, instead?”

“Hey!” the Kid exclaims. “I don’t wanna stay on the ship at all!”

“Tough luck, shrimp,” Malos says. “But you’re not in charge here.”

“I’d rather we not,” Jin says. “Maybe-”

“Why don’t we_ all _go?” Ontos suggests.

Everyone looks at him. 

“I don’t think…” Jin begins.

Malos interrupts. “Wouldn’t that work, though? United front or whatever.”

Back in the day, Addam’s group all came at him with everyone all at once, didn’t they?

“Yeah!” the Kid says, now once again agreeing with Malos. “The more fighters we’ve got the stronger we are, right? And you can’t just leave me alone behind on the ship, I’d be defenseless.”

“And we need Mikhail’s expertise…” Jin sighs. 

“No one likes being left behind,” Haze adds in an oddly soft tone of voice, and Jin visibly breaks. Huh.

“Fine,” he says. “We’re all going, so you need disguises.”

After that it takes half an hour just for all of them to dress in disguises judged believable by Jin, and then come up with some backstories. Ontos, the one with the least famous face, is going to pretend to be some rich collector from Tantal (Tantal, specifically because they’re so isolated from the rest of the world). Mikhail, with most of his face covered and Haze and Cole in tow, will play a bodyguard, and so will Malos, and Jin will pretend to be Malos’s Blade just as Cole will play Mikhail’s. The Kid, who luckily is the one who most resembles Ontos out of all of them, will play Ontos’s kid.

Jin still looks faintly worried, but really? How perceptive can a few traders be? It’ll be fine.

And none of the Trade Guilds have extradition treaties with Indol anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter after this isn't actually written yet (oops) so my updating schedule might… start to suffer a bit. thanks for all the feedback so far :D


	8. Don't Open Old Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for your wonderful comments!! i'm working on this again, and hopefully i'll be able to wrap this fic up around february :D again, thanks for all the feedback & hope you enjoy!

There are Wanted posters pinned to the message boards in Argentum. 

Jin and Mikhail both act like they can’t see them, turning their covered faces away and refusing to focus on them, but Malos stops for a second to read. _ RUTHLESS BLOODTHIRSTY FLESH-EATERS, _ the headlines scream. _ Wanted for the murder of Praetor Amalthus I. 50 000 G for information that leads to their capture. _

Malos grinds his teeth.

That bastard’s trying to destroy them even from beyond the grave. Is it never going to end? Malos is so thoroughly fucking tired of having to scuttle around like rats and hide. They’re meant to be the _ hunters _ and not the prey.

“Where’s the Salvagers, Kid?” he asks, tired and angry and wanting to be over with this already. The chaos of Argentum is giving him a headache, despite the fact that Malos generally fucking loves chaos and anarchy.

“Somewhere on this deck,” the Kid says, staring curiously at all the people moving about. Dumbassses. He points. “Maybe the terrace over there?”

Their group quickly makes their way over to said terrace, swerving around booths and stalls and ducking beneath low-hanging banners, and the terrace turns out to be another _ port _ built into the side of Goldmouth, with large winches and nets strung up around it. All the people in ugly full-body suits and clunky helmets milling about out there seem pretty promising, too. “Are these the ‘Salvagers’ we seek?” Ontos wonders out loud, looking at them with amusement.

“Yep,” the Kid says. “Now we just gotta hire them!”

There’s another moment of awkward silence. Malos has become quite adept at identifying those since their group picked up all these new people. He shares a look with Jin, who then glances at Cole and Haze, who do not look at Malos. _ With what money? _ is the damning question on everyone’s mind.

“Yeah,” Malos says. “About that…”

“We don’t have any money, do we?” Haze asks.

“Aw no,” the Kid says sadly. Ontos frowns.

“Although,” Jin says, speaking up. “Some of the junk aboard the _ Marsanes _could be sold for quite a lot, I believe…”

“You think we should sell it?” Malos asks, looking at him.

Jin shrugs. “As good a use as anything,” he says.

“Then let us head back to your ship,” Ontos says briskly, and their group turns around again, and starts making their way back to the _ Marsanes. _ They stay together as a unit, they walk slowly and inconspicuously, they stop sometimes to look at wares like a normal vaguely family-sized unit. Jin and Mikhail keep their hoods up and scarves on and don’t look anyone in the eyes, and Malos sticks to the shadows. They blend in so well they’re almost boring to look at.

Sure, all the Wanted posters and people sounding upset about Amalthus’s death are kind of making Malos want to throw something, but it’s fine. He’s not going to do anything rash. He’s being _ stealthy. _

And everything goes smoothly, nearly perfectly - they get through Goldmouth, no one takes extra notice of them or starts following them, and they get safely and unnoticed to the docks where they docked the _ Marsanes- _

Where a stately Indoline battleship has now also been docked, just two piers away from the _ Marsanes. _ But the warrior monks themselves are standing flocked at the pier in front of the _ Marsanes _instead, their white robes making them visible even from a long distance away, sticking out like exceptionally ominous sore thumbs.

Malos halts at once, Jin stuttering to a stop next to him. Only the Kid takes a few more steps forward before stopping, looking back at the rest of them, and then immediately darting back to them. “Cole…?” he asks, sounding all weird, and Malos realises that_ this _ is what kids sound like when they’re scared and looking to adults for guidance, apparently. 

“Jin,” Cole says, grabbing the Kid’s hand and pulling him behind himself, out of the monks’ sight. “The monks!” he he then hisses. “They’re clearly here looking for us and they’ve already found our ship! What are we supposed to do _ now?” _

“I…” Jin says, frowning, and pauses.

Malos knows how fast Indoline battleships are - even though the fuckers won’t be able to do any damage to the_ Marsanes _ from outside, they could still pursue them relentlessly, call for a back-up, and eventually surround them. _ This, _ Malos thinks viciously, is not a situation in which to run and hide and hope for the best. This is a situation in which to be an _ opportunist. _

“Let’s raid their ship,” Malos says.

Cole and Haze and the Kid just stare at him. Jin purses his lips. Ontos says, “What an interesting idea! Shall we?”

Cole opens his mouth - and closes it. Then he says, “You know, I can kind of appreciate the sheer dramatic irony of the situation if we did that.”

“If we take out their ship,” Jin mutters. “Then they won’t be able to give chase…”

“See?” Malos says. “It all evens out. Let’s get to it.”

* * *

The last time Mikhail was aboard an Indoline ship, he was smaller. Hungrier. He was _ defeated _– he saw Haze fall, he knew that Lora was dead, and therefore Jin too, and all the refugees were dying around him and he was alone in the world again, only him against every older, bigger person who wanted a piece of him. And Indol would eat him alive, gobble him up like all the crying children in the cargo bay with Mikhail – and maybe, if he was very lucky, then after the massive dragon was done with him at last, it’d spit out his bones to the sea.

The crying children around him were sad and heart-broken because they’d been torn away from their families.

But Mikhail had sat emotionless and still in the same corner he’d been thrown, resigned with his fate to the point of no longer caring.

Though _ now _ he sure as fuck feels _ something. _

They split up when they got inside the ship, and Mikhail’s with Haze and Cole, creeping toward the bridge of the ship. They haven’t met any monks yet, but Mikhail knows it’s just a matter of time - he’s pretty goddamn _ familiar _ with what kind of security measures the Indoline take. He’s been locked away in the dark for so many years by their security measures, their bullshit science, but now he’s been _ freed, _ now he’s got Haze and Cole at his back, he has been _ unleashed. _

He was never one for emotions as a kid. In Indol they cut away the last bits of feeling, longing - stashed them away in bottles and put cold hard crystal in his chest, gouging into his beating heart-

-but now he’s _ free, _ and he’s _ angry. _ He is completely goddamn furious - the lights flicker and fizzle and pop above his head - and some unprompted part of his mind dumps information and technical properties into his head, suggests which wiring is faulty - and viciously Mikhail ignores it and chooses to _ care _about something. Every single refugee kid he saw die in the cells beneath the Praetorium, he’s got all their faces and names and whimpers in mind as the lights finally die and the corridor is plunged into darkness.

“Mikhail?” Haze asks, worried.

“Hold my hand,” Mikhail says, and he doesn’t even know that it’ll work before Haze grabs his hand and gasps.

“This is what you see?”

“Yes,” Mikhail says, and the corridor stretches onward before them, not one drop of light but still he sees every outline perfectly, everything hued in a vague purple colour. 

And when the warrior monks then come rushing, Mikhail, Haze and Cole see them from even the other side of the corridor, and Cole quickly and easily whips out his gun and shoots the two guards. Their bodies drop to the floor, clattering, as more monks yell and appear there. But Cole is a Dark Blade too, and he starts picking them off at a distance. Meanwhile Mikhail and Haze creep closer (and there_ is _ some kind of thrill in being this confidently close to danger it seems) and when they’re only a few metres away, Haze sweeps her staff outward so that the resulting push of air slams all the monks into the wall.

An instinct pushes at Mikhail to draw his fans, so he does - “Sorry Haze,” - and lunges forward. He’s on his own, still, but now he’s got the means to _ fight _ \- and then an affinity link snaps into place between him and Haze, and he can _ see _ it now, soft light blue - and he realises; no. No, he’s not alone. 

Haze’s Ether feels like a breeze over Mikhail's molten embers, another rush of power, and after that he lets go of every thought in his head and simply dances.

In the end there’s a lot of bodies, and Mikhail has discovered that blood simply doesn’t stick to Blade weapons. He wonders about the science of that - does Ether repel blood? - even as he absently realises that he - he killed those monks. He’s never been in a proper fight before, as a fighter. But he had sat in Addam’s militia camp with Milton and listened to all the big men and women’s stories about hard and long battles, where after nights of camping out in the mud, finally the sun would rise and they’d be _ victorious, _ just and right and fair and good.

Life isn’t like that. There was no justice in Milton dying - it should've been _ Mikhail; _ everyone loved Milton but Mikhail had always just been there at the fringes of the crowd, never fitting in. And there was nothing fair about the monks killing Saki’s baby sister in front of her because they deemed her ‘faulty’ and ‘too small’, and Mikhail could never do a single thing, never change anything. So he never said a single thing. He never did a single thing. He sat where he was placed and ate when they told him to and pretended he didn’t hear the crying.

The first year the crying was ever-present, eternal, _ inescapable. _ Someone was always sobbing their little heart out.

Then as the years dragged on, gradually the crying started to die out.

So if there’s any damn justice in this world, any _ fairness _ \- then the warrior monks dead at Mikhail’s feet should’ve had their deaths prolonged to _ years, _ years of suffering. Years of sobbing and clawing at walls and feeling their organs fail one by one, years of _ torture. _

But Mikhail isn’t a person who’d do that. None of Addam’s people would’ve ever done that. Not even Malos would, and now- now the monks are dead, so they’ll never hurt anyone ever again.

That’s enough.

“Mikhail?” Haze says, and puts a tentative hand on his shoulder. Mikhail turns away from the corpses and says,

“Let’s continue. Onward.”

* * *

Jin, Malos, Ontos and the Kid are in the cargo hold, while Malos tells them that, as a rule, the Indoline think cargo holds are dirty and unrefined, and that that’s the reason why the floor and walls here are covered in white tile and porcelain. “Really,” Malos says, snorting in derision. “I think the monks might just be afraid of rats.”

“I think rats are cute!” the Kid says.

“And that’s why you are not a sailor,” Jin mutters, hauling a crate full of tea out of the way. Beneath it are several more crates, which Jin methodically open - tea, lamp oil, tea, and then- Core crystals. He takes a breath, remembering the crate of crystals he had found beneath the Praetorium but had been forced to leave behind.

Not this time.

He grabs the crate and hauls it over to the entrance. When Malos glances at him he says, “We’re taking this one with us.”

“Alright.”

“So we’re taking their supplies?” Ontos asks. “I like that idea.”

And after that Jin selects a crate of Tornan teas, and Ontos a crate of old literature, while Malos easily carries over two crates filled with miscellaneous riches. “Check this out!” the Kid then says, and they all go over to the crate he’s looking at. And the crate turns out to be full of gemstones and minerals, likely mined in Uraya - _ and _ ridiculously valuable. 

“This one too,” Jin orders, and Malos carries it over. 

They find two crates of dried meat and jam and spices too, and nab those, along with a crate of Shiwan silk. Thus finished with the cargo hold, they pile up the crates strategically and start to carry them out. The Kid runs along them and tells them when to turn, and soon they’re out in the sunlight again, back on the docks. They put down the crates and then Jin needs to take a moment to breathe, glancing back at the _ Marsanes- _two monks standing at the docking plank. He assumes darkly that the rest of them ventured inside.

“So what now?” the Kid asks, once again curious and ready for anything - a big improvement from how scared he’d been that first time they saw the monks.

“We wait for Mikhail and the others to return.”

* * *

Cole never really bothered to learn how ships worked, and neither did Haze. So the both of them sit down on the opulent table in the white-painted bridge and just watch as Mikhail works his magic on the controls, turning levers, punching buttons, and ripping out wires. “The problem with Indoline - and Ardainian and Urayan - battleships, is that they’re attached to Titans,” he’s saying as he works. “It makes many things so difficult. Also, the engineers who can’t even build an independently functioning ship are all fucking morons.”

“So what are you doing?” Cole asks, as Mikhail pauses.

“Since I can’t destroy the whole ship, I’m destroying the bridge instead.” Mikhail looks at them. “You could help, actually. Just smash anything that looks important.”

Cole and Haze share a look, then get up from the table.

Using his knives, it’s a fast job to pry open the intricate plating on the consoles and then tear out wires and gears, before moving on to the next one. Haze is meanwhile tearing down the screens and monitors with almost eerie focus - Cole never thought of her as a destroyer, but here she is. Here they all are.

At the beginning of the road you never fathom where you’ll end up, isn’t it so? 

In a play, Cole would set the stage like this: the ship is made of wood, maybe. It’s an ugly ship, instead of this delicate piece of ivory and rainbow. There’s no Titan because they’ve managed to free it. And when the pirates, the rebels are done - they lit the ship on fire, watch the flames eat the ship up and burn like a torch in the harbour, gloriously.

As it is, they have to be content with rending the machinery useless, and after Mikhail snatches up a few books on engineering from a neat shelf in the corner of the bridge, all of them flee. The ship is smaller than the _ Marsanes _ and Mikhail runs like he knows the ship as well as the back of his hand, so they’re out in a minute, in no time at all. On the docks in the shadow of the ship the others are waiting with their haul of goods, and Mikhail adds his books to an open crate while Cole turns to Jin and Malos and drawls, “And now? I’m taking a wild guess here, but I assume we’ll be taking the _ Marsanes _back.”

“The Kid and - someone, will have to stay and watch our cargo,” Jin says.

Cole finds himself saying, “I can do that.”

As long as Cole draws breath, nothing shall happen to Addam’s son.

Jin nods. “Good. The rest of us will take back the _ Marsanes _ \- the warrior monks were not many, so I believe we’ll have no trouble doing that. The real issue is what comes after that…”

“C’mon, “ Malos says. “Now there’s a few less Indoline shits in this world - isn’t that great?”

Jin hums, but he’s still frowning.

Cole agrees with Jin, and not just because of principles. Committing some light piracy and vengeance is all well and good, but if the news of this spreads to the other Trade Guilds… The Vanadium Trade Guild is famously in love with Indoline culture, for instance, and would surely chip in with money and ships to hunt their little band down if the Indoline ever asked for help. Though others - like the Pyrithium Trade Guild - don’t care whatsoever, even they would think twice about trading with them if word started going around about-

Though then again. Flesh Eaters have always been shunned and hated, and Jin _ did _ warn them about exactly this back in Indol. There’ll be no peaceful end to their story, no cottage by the sea like Addam’s - their future is one long night stretching out for years ahead of them.

Though they do have each other. That, at least, is worth more than anything else.

Cole settles in to wait with the Kid, telling the others goodbye and then watching them leave, walking away down the docks. Ontos walks first, an easy almost strolling gait, while Mikhail and Haze pad on careful feet after him, and last comes Jin and Malos. Malos walks exactly like you think a man concealing a hundred pounds of armour beneath his cloak would walk, while Jin seen from the back - he could be anyone, any common person you meet on the street. He does not draw attention in the slightest.

“They’ll come back, right?” the Kid asks, looking up at Cole with too bright yellow eyes.

“Yes,” Cole says. “Of course they will. But until then, we’ll guard our treasure.”

-and judging by how the dock authorities are starting to look at them, they might just need to work for it, too.

* * *

The familiar metal grey hallways of the _ Marsanes _ embrace their group, and from the clanking in the pipes to the gaping mouth doorways, Jin’s started to think of this place as safe. Shelter. But now there are warrior monks aboard - but just as they slit the throats of the two who were outside and threw their bodies in the Cloud sea, they’ll now rid the ship of the rest.

They split up upon entering, and Jin is with Haze and Mikhail now. They’re walking slowly, clearing the whole floor before moving upwards. So far they’ve found no one.

In the bridge, however, they find five.

Jin reacts the first and the fastest, leaping forward and sliding his sword out and up smoothly into the underside of a monk’s jaw, to then yank the nodachi away with the strength of a Blade. His move tears up the monk’s throat and he’s dead in moments, while Jin’s already moving on to his next target.

Mikhail parries another monk’s weapon using a pair of fans - Jin wants to know more about that, at some point - while Haze is locked in melee combat with a third. Jin spares her a glance, but in the end moves on to kill another monk instead. And when he turns to look a second time, Haze is clutching the monk furiously with both hands as he struggles and then slumps, dead.

Mikhail finishes his opponent last, with a stab of his fan to the throat, and then it’s just the three of them, panting in the foul smell of corpses as their hearts start to slow down.

Jin looks at Haze, who lifts her chin and looks right back.

That monk, who Haze grabbed. Held still for just long enough to manage the intense focus and skill, not to mention proximity, that a Blade needs to kill someone from the inside. It’s a vicious but effective move, and hard to master.

Jin elects to say nothing, in the end, and turns back to the doors. “Let us proceed,” he says.

He’s got Haze and Mikhail following him, but Lora is gone, creating an odd imbalance to their little group. With Malos, Jin knows he’s on steady ground. It’s surprising how off-kilter he feels with Haze at his side instead of Malos.

But now is not a moment for reflection. 

They clear another floor of the ship, the highest, then head back down. They run into Cole and the Kid in the mess hall though, sitting there with all the boxes of cargo, and Jin frowns and says, “You weren’t supposed to head inside before-”

“Jin,” Cole interrupts. “There’s guards on the docks. Trade Guild guards.”

“Shit,” Mikhail says, then turns and runs for the bridge, Haze scrambling to follow.

The Kid speaks up. “But hey! We got all the stuff aboard in time.”

“Thank… you,” Jin says slowly, but looks at Cole. “You’ll be okay here?”

“Go,” Cole says, and Jin nods before setting off again.

He runs through the ship, one last sweep of the floors before he then runs into Malos and Ontos, who report to him that they found only three warrior monks. Jin says, “We found five. Plus the two outside. Does ten seem a reasonable number for one patrol?”

“Sure,” Malos says, shrugging.

“I assume,” Ontos says. “That we won’t be hiring any Salvagers here.”

The silence after feels very, very loaded.

“No,” Jin says, eventually. “We’ll try another Guild. There are several.”

“Ah, well then that’s another thing entirely,” Ontos says brightly. “Shall we dispose of the bodies?”

“Yes, please,” Jin says, and then tags along with Ontos and Malos to do just that. Soon after that the whole ship jerks meaningfully, and the next time Jin gets to a window and they all look outside the Argentum Trade Guild is just a speck on the horizon. It’s well into the night by now, and the Cloud sea is just a large mass of grey, looking almost like a blanket with how still the surface is. _ And _ it’s making the ship that’s pursuing them stand out very clearly against the dusk.

“We’re being followed,” Ontos notes.

“The ship looks Skyldish,” Jin guesses, squinting against the dark and the distance.

“Definitely Skyldish,” says Malos, with his far superior eyes. “Look at those green crests, and the topsails? Only the Skyldish use sails.”

“You think the Guild sent them?” Jin asks.

“Maybe we’ll find out,” Malos muses darkly, and so they turn and rush for the bridge.

* * *

Everyone else is already gathered in the bridge when they arrive, watching Mikhail’s screens. Someone has moved the bodies of the warrior monks to the corridor outside, but that still doesn’t hide the obvious stench of death in here, and Jin feels ill at ease when he looks at the monitors and is faced with a close-up of the Skyldish ship. It’s a typical Skyldish ship - a long serpentine Titan (optional, really, but ideal) upon which a long slender ship has been built out of wood, with masts and sails for extra speed. Skyldish ships are famously cramped and uncomfortable, but also famously _ fast. _

Options, plans, and fear all knot up inside of Jin - but he needs to be calm. He needs to be strong. He needs to carefully decide how much blood one group can spill before they’re labeled intertitanal terrorists.

“Have they tried to contact us?” Jin asks. It seems reasonable to do. “Is there any way they _ could _ contact us?”

“Sure,” Mikhail says. “We’ve got a shitton of equipment here, as you can see-”

He’s cut off by one of the machines starting to whine, and he spins around to flick a few switches on it, saying, “Ah, what’d ya know! Now they _ are _ contacting us.”

Another screen expands in front of them, black apart from showing a Tornan symbol for ‘speaking’.

Mikhail gestures, flicks a switch, and then there’s a voice speaking. _ “Halt!” _ it says, in a thick Skyldish accent. _ “Stop, in the name of the Architect! Aboard your ship are the two men wanted for the murder of Praetor Amalthus the first! Cease your flight or we will open fire!” _ and so on. Mikhail obviously tunes them out quickly in favour of steering the _ Marsanes _ instead, but as the first shots hit the hull, everyone except Mik looks at Jin.

“Mikhail,” Jin says. “This ship can safely withstand anything they fire at us, correct?”

“What? Yeah,” Mikhail replies distractedly, hands flying over the controls.

“Do we have weapons of our own?” Jin asks.

“Obviously,” Mikhail says. “This is a damn warship, of course there’s weapons. Fully functional, mostly.”

Cole looks at Jin. Malos and Ontos and the Kid look at Jin. Haze looks at Jin. And in Jin’s chest Lora’s heart beats and Jin can only think, that whatever course he now sets them upon, Lora would look upon his choice and think-

(they cannot surrender. They cannot negotiate their way out of his, cannot talk or barter or run. The Skyldish ship is too fast, and they are already guilty of killing all those monks - and Amalthus, Jin supposes. There is no scenario in which humans would ever side with them over anything, would ever care about Blades as living beings in the way the Tornans did, would ever see anything they did today as justified)

Would Lora think, that Jin did the right thing?

Maybe not. But Lora isn’t here anymore, hasn’t been through what the rest of them have. And Jin owes it to Lora to survive. He owes it to Mikhail and Haze and Addam’s kid to make sure _ they _survive.

If Jin considers all his limited options, his small hand of cards, then there’s only one way out for them, for now. So he straightens up and tells Mikhail, “Fire on the Skyldish ship. Destroy it.”

And Mikhail simply says, “Well then,” and activates the cannons. Tornan cannons shoot blasts of pure Ether, and take a minute or so to charge up. They also crave a lot of fuel, but if you aim them at a smaller ship, then one well-aimed blast is usually enough to sink your foe.

Mikhail pulls the lever, aims, and waits. Jin waits behind him, and looks at the Skyldish ship - green crests and all the sails, slack due to the lack of breeze - and feels Malos step closer, but Malos doesn’t say anything. No one says anything as the two back cannons finish charging, and Mikhail wordlessly turns to Jin, and Jin nods. And the _ Marsanes _ fires, two bright purple blasts that lit up and the screen and when they fade the Skyldish ship is a wreck, masts torn off and smoking wooden splinters floating and sinking and sinking and, eventually, there’s only a single torn sail floating on the Cloud sea left.

The Titan that made up the base of the ship lets out a cry, surfacing again. It’s hurt but Jin hopes it’ll live. 

The Titan turns around in the clouds and water, lifting its head as if tasting the air - and finally it dives, and is gone.

* * *

After Jin, and Haze and Mikhail and Addam’s kid, have all gone to bed, Malos and Ontos sit in the mess with Cole. The bastard got himself some paper and ink and started writing something after dinner, and even as everyone left, he stayed, and now Malos sits here and occasionally glares at him disdainfully. Shouldn’t he be heading to bed, too?

Meanwhile, Ontos is humming. Tonight it’s a deep, slow tune, so slow at times that Malos thinks he’s stopped humming, only for Ontos to begin on yet another note.

That, coupled with the almost mournful atmosphere at dinner, is slowly driving Malos mad.

“The Indoline warrior monks deserve no mercy,” Malos states, finally, indignantly. “And the Skyldish shot at us first. In this world it’s kill or be killed, and _ that’s just how it is.” _

“Does it have to be?” Ontos asks idly. “From whence I came, wars were fought at a scale you can’t imagine - yet the strongest desire of every tribe was only peace. In the end, I think they achieved it.”

Malos snorts. “And in this world, there’s two ‘tribes’. The humans and the Blades. And father designed the latter to not even be able to _ exist _without serving as weapons for the former. So, what the fuck do you think he meant by that?”

“I do not know,” Ontos says, calmly. “But we could change that. We, the Aegises, have the power to rival gods and remake reality. The Blade system is a solution to a problem in this world which I can _ fix.” _

Malos rubs his shoulder, the one that’s aching tonight again. “Not without Mythra,” he says, and he wants to sneer it. Mythra was an annoying pest, no matter how fun it was to fight her - but now she’s gone and all but died and taken all the keys with her to her Cloud sea bed. She sank Torna and then she sank herself, and look at the pieces left behind. Look at Jin, look at that kid Mikhail.

“You know,” Cole says suddenly, speaking up from his end of the table. He’s put down his pen to look at the Aegises instead. “I’ve seen Blades who lived their whole lives as farmers and fishermen along with their Drivers. Aptitude doesn’t _ always _ lead to bloodshed.”

“You had _ Amalthus _for a Driver, dipshit,” Malos growls. “Don’t act all high and mighty, like this system isn’t shot to hell.”

“What’s aptitude?” Ontos asks, breaking up their fight before it can even begin. 

“It,” Malos bites out, “Is the factor determining whether you can awaken a Blade or not, and it’s based on no logic nor reason and it certainly isn’t _ fair, _ or anything else the Drivers preach.”

“When you grab a Core crystal and try to awaken it, you’ll either succeed,” Cole says. “Or you’ll pass out... or even die.”

“Most things are based on sheer chance,” Ontos remarks to this. 

“There are tales of Blades killing their own Drivers just to make it end,” Cole says, but _ now _ he’s frowning, the bastard. “If it were just the humans affected? By all means; chance is the only law of the world, after all. But we Blades-”

“Doomed to live at the _ whims _ of humanity, on their scraps, their mercy,” Malos snarls. “And what they do to us - you healed Haze’s Core yourself, Ontos! Her _ Driver did that to her.” _

Ontos cocks his head and breathes out, slowly. He clasps his hands in front of him. “Blades… are what this world is made of. Quite literally. So if we were to change it-”

“Get rid of the humans,” Malos grumbles, and Cole immediately gives him a disgusted look.

“Mostly it works,” Cole then says, slowly. “The system. But the flaws… If only Blades were free to choose - to remember… that’s all I’d want, really.”

“You want to be like the humans?” Ontos asks.

_ “No,” _ Malos says immediately, and it’s not even purely out of affront. “We need to do the whole evolving into Titans thing, it’s what keeps Alrest alive. We need to be _ Blades, _ not some bullshit second-rate humans. What needs to be fucking fixed is so that Blades can function after their Driver’s dead. Actually, why not remove the Driver completely?”

“Not completely,” Cole argues. “Some option of casting affinity links should be left. That’s another thing that makes us Blades, isn’t it?”

“Whatever,” Malos says. “Blades _ need _ to be able to awaken without humans - and it’s not like we _ need _ to die with 50 year intervals, thanks to the Drivers, to gather data or some such shit either. We shouldn’t be the tools of humans.”

“So what you want... is choice,” Ontos says, haltingly. “All you’re asking for, is the means to seize your own destinies.”

“Yeah,” Malos says, quietly, the anger having run its course and now left him empty. It’s not a good feeling. It used to be so easy to hold onto anger instead of thought, to care about only one thing at a time. To focus on survival rather than consequences. To be able to say something snide and dismissive as answer to _ what do you want, _ to anyone asking who wasn’t Jin, to never think about what he could’ve done with all his awesome power instead of destruction. To try and never think about what he did to Jin’s home. 

But now Amalthus is dead, and it’s like something else in Malos has come alive.

The part of him that looks at their ship and their crew and at Jin and realises that maybe this is all he needs. That wonders about how if they’re going to wage a war on god, then what exactly is it they’re fighting for, if not- “That.”

“That,” Cole agrees, like they’re making a toast, and Ontos nods thoughtfully, and after that there’s only quiet.


	9. Bad Body Double

In the morning, they eat breakfast together in the mess hall. 

After that, Jin begins to unpack some of the crates they stole. 

Mikhail’s in the bridge, setting the _ Marsanes _ on a course around the World Tree, avoiding civilisation - they’ll sail around the Tree for a week, and then they’ll try again to hire some Salvagers, this time at the Pyrithium Trade Guild. Ontos had agreed to this plan easily, and now he’s at work helping Haze patch up the parts of the _ Marsanes _ that are broken. Meanwhile, Malos, Cole and the Kid are helping Jin.

There’s a lot of valuables in the crates - they’ll sell the gems and the silk for money, obviously, but there might be other things in there that can be sold as well. Though they’re keeping all the books, because Tornan literature is priceless nowadays, with Jin’s home long gone.

When noon comes, Jin makes them all lunch, and again they eat together in the mess hall. Jin sits next to Malos and Haze keeps sneaking looks at Jin over the meal, but what else is new?

They eat. Mikhail mentions offhandedly that the weather’s good for travel today. They clean up.

After, when Jin’s washing the dishes, Haze approaches him.

Sweet, bubbly, kind-hearted Haze. Caring, loyal Haze, who’d slaughter anyone who dared harm her lady if only Lora told her to - exactly the same as Jin, though sometimes people didn’t realise that. Haze, who was always talking and smiling and went off on quests alone, knew how to talk to people without Lora, how to fight without Lora, how to_ function _ without Lora. Haze loved her lady Lora as much as Jin, but she never _ needed _ her like Jin did, like Jin needs water and air and Ether.

And Jin has lived for many years now without either of them.

“Jin,” she begins, standing in the doorway. Jin keeps scrubbing at a plate, his hands submerged in water and stolen Urayan luxury soap. “Are you alright?”

“What?” Jin asks, frowning. He says, “Yes, I’m fine. Do you need anything?”

“You…” Haze begins delicately. “Can I help you with that?”

“Go ahead.”

They wash the dishes, then dry them. Slowly, methodically.

Haze says, “Tell me about it. Those years in between now and Spessia.”

“Why?” Jin asks, tiredly.

“Aren’t we friends?” Haze asks. Jin wonders about that, sometimes.

“Fine,” he says, and searches for the words, the place where he wants to begin. He knows what Haze must really be asking, here. Why _ Malos? How _ Malos? What happened to you? What changed between us? 

Can things ever be the same again? _ No. _

“You were dead,” he begins. “You were all dead. It had been years and I was…” Nearly finished. He was _ done. _ He was - there wasn’t a point anymore. The rain fell and fell and as he sat down in that alley in Alba Cavanich he knew, down to the marrow of his bones, that he’d never stand up again, never rise of his own power again. And it had felt like such a _ relief, _to finally be done with it-

Then, Malos. Then, the road.

He tells Haze more than he intended to, but still far less than what might be honest. Jin’s not really one for long talks though, and some details just wouldn’t fit in this conversation. Some things are so bruise-tender he can’t bring himself to put words to them. And others are, quite frankly, Jin’s private business.

When he’s done, Haze looks thoughtfully up at him and says, “So Malos really means… a lot to you.”

“Yes,” Jin answers, simply.

“Hmm,” Haze says. “I guess he _ has _ changed.”

“Hmm,” Jin agrees, and doesn't say, _ you don’t get to judge my only choice. _ Instead he continues by saying, “So have I. And you’ve changed too, haven’t you? Your bond with Mikhail. And that man you killed-”

“You’ve killed far more men than me,” Haze replies, which is certainly true.

“I didn’t make their insides explode,” Jin argues back, nevertheless. “I didn’t even know you were able to do that.”

Haze is quiet, then looks up. “Me neither. But Lora isn’t here anymore. She’s _ gone. _ And now this is- is-” 

“This is all you have?” Jin guesses, but tries to make his voice gentle.

“It feels like I’m doing something wrong just by existing,” Haze says in a rush. “It shouldn’t be this _ easy. _ I shouldn’t be sitting here without any scars, without any marks when you and Cole both… And I’m missing Lora but I’m not missing her _ enough. _ I loved her! I loved her, and yesterday I killed that monk by- by-

“Jin, what would Lora_ think _of me?” Haze says, pained. “I killed that man. Killed!”

“You did it to defend Mikhail, didn’t you?” Jin says, feeling approximately a thousand years old, and Haze nods reluctantly. “Then I think - Lora wouldn’t ever think any less of you, for that. She’d be proud that you were defending a kid.”

Haze sags against the countertop. “You really believe that?”

“Yes,” Jin says, earnestly, their foremost authority on Lora, and Haze wipes at her eyes.

“Well then,” she says, after that, after clearing her throat. “Thank you, Jin. Now I should get back to work.”

Haze leaves, and Jin puts away all the plates and then he just stands there for a while, silently. Alone. He’s not a praying man and so what he thinks of is Lora, always Lora. It’s been many years since her death. Many long years. Her body had been waiting in that cave for years, and now it’s frozen down inside a cargo room. Only changed places. He’ll never be able to bury her in Tornan soil, but maybe… maybe she’d like it if he buried her in Gormott. 

A nice thought, for sure. It might be years before they can visit Gormott, but still. He can think about it.

And Lora_ would _ be proud of Haze. But maybe not of Jin.

And Jin’s accepted that.

* * *

That night Jin wakes to a horrible headache and to Malos and Haze sitting by his bedside. “Haze,” Jin mumbles. “I’m sorry.” He hadn’t meant to wake her again. Malos moved his cot to Jin’s room just for this reason, after all - mostly, or at least that was the reason they gave - so to find Haze here again feels like a failure on his part.

“Told you,” Malos quickly says to Haze. “We’re handling this. You can go back to bed.”

“Fine then,” Haze says, glares a little at Malos, then brushes the hair away from Jin’s forehead with a tenderness that reminds him achingly of Lora, and leaves.

Malos doesn’t move from Jin’s side, even after his headache has mostly subsided. There’s a single lamp lit in the room, and Malos’s face is cast in shadow. When Jin sits up in the bed, back against the shitty metal headboard, Malos turns his head to look at Jin. And where Mythra’s hair and eyes were golden bright, Malos’s are dark, muted colours. The day and the night. The past and the present.

Being born to something and choosing something by yourself.

Romance and sexuality are foreign concepts to many Blades. Some of them aren’t even made to look human, or human _ enough, _ so no human ever thinks of those as having feelings like _ that. _ And there are no Blades at all who are made to build families, after all, and any connection other than the bond to one’s Driver is seen as worthless by most humans. In Torna love stories starring Blades weren’t uncommon though - but mostly the romance was about the Driver and the Blade together. Because the poets and the playwrights and the authors were nearly all human- even though Blades were free to pursue their own interests in Torna, most Blades were awakened by hunters, mercenaries or military, and since the Driver never had the time to settle down then neither had the Blade.

But _ love. _ The first rule of a Blade’s existence in Torna - Jin’s seen, felt an abundance of that. And Blades can fall in love. With humans and with others of their kin. But actively _ pursuing _ that feeling? It was a carefully balanced game of opportunity, propriety and time - Jin never played. But now, cut loose from everything, even the Titans-

Malos is still watching him. Jin opens his mouth and feels Lora’s heart beat faster, says, “Why don't you sit with me?"

Malos gets up and then sits down next to Jin on the bed.

It is night, and they are alone out at sea.

"We've come a long way," Jin says. This is not exactly where he meant to start, but his tongue feels clumsy and hesitant. He's searching for a road he's never walked before, even though maybe it was always the direction he was heading. "Together. And I…"

"Jin," Malos murmurs. "I would follow you anywhere if you asked. This all - it's just the beginning."

"You would?" Jin asks, numbly. His hands feel clammy and he clasps them to stop their light tremors.

"Anywhere," Malos vows, this fallen god who now rests one of his hands on top of Jin's both, almost reverently. Malos has no goddamn middle ground; either he's sneering at you, or he's sitting beside you in bed and looking at you like you're all he cares to look at and saying, "There's no one like you. You're the only thing that made me feel like a person when I still had my Driver in my head. You showed me the world. You…"

Jin needs to respond. Jin has that rare feeling of nervousness that not even a gang of bandits or an unique monster tall as a house can make him feel anymore - but he needs to answer so he pushes through and says, "Malos. You make me feel emotions I didn't think were possible, you… If you wanted me to, I'd follow you just as far. To the ends of Alrest."

But therein lies the problem: _ is _it to the end of the world they're heading?

Jin does not want to think about it.

Malos's eyes are dark and he doesn't bring it up either, and Jin - Jin finds himself glancing down at Malos's lips. 

Either he does - or he doesn't and then regrets it.

Jin swallows. "May I kiss you?"

"Fuck," Malos rasps. _ "Please." _

So Jin does, to the best of his ability. He's done this about twice before - and yes, both times can be blamed on party games. But he’s heard stories, songs, plays. He _ wants. _ They’ll take it slow and figure it out together - and even simply raising a hand and cupping Malos’s face feels like he’s been waiting years for this exact moment. The night is as silent as if Jin and Malos were the last two beings in Alrest, and when he brushes Malos’s cheek with his thumb the Aegis’s eyes close.

It’s more about the meaning of the gesture than about the gesture itself. 

Malos leans into it, and Jin presses his lips to Malos’s, brushes a hand up the back of his neck, across his cheek. There is something incredible in doing it, in sitting so close together, after finally having told what it means. 

When Jin draws back, Malos looks at him for a long moment then leans up and kisses Jin’s Core crystal.

“Hmm,” Jin says, amused but mostly fond.

“What?” Malos asks, narrowing his eyes but smiling.

“You never cease to surprise me,” Jin says, and lies back down, eyeing the bed. Probably big enough for the both of them, he decides.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Malos grumbles, but joins Jin in pulling up the covers. He seems to hesitate before touching Jin again, and Jin curls closer with a feeling so light and precious - it dissipates in seconds but yet, there it was. And here Malos is.

“I’ll tell you later.”

* * *

A week later sees the seven of them attempting to dock at the Pyrithium Trade Guild, which is a construction composed of a dozen smaller Titans with bridges connecting them all to each other, like a floating village. This makes it rather difficult for the Guild to move, which is why it mostly moves by the streams of the Cloud sea. And for the last few months, the Titans closest to it have been Gormott and the ruins of Judicium - well away from Indol and Argentum’s current positions.

They get permission to dock, Ontos goes out and pays the fee, and then Jin and Mikhail settle in to play cards while the rest of them leave to sell their goods and then hire Salvagers.

They already got recognised last time, _ and _ someone almost stole their ship. Best not to keep challenging fate.

Still, Jin and Mik only have the patience for one round of cards before Mikhail gets up and starts pacing. Jin sighs, and gets up to go peer out through one of the windows. He can see a few shops, in boats and stalls set up on the decks, and a few busy bridges. Two Urayan mercenaries window-shopping for swords, and a Nopon tending to his fishing nets, and hundreds of the charms and banners that the Pyrithium Trade Guild is adorned with, moving gently with the wind.

No sign of the others.

Jin goes back to where Mikhail is still pacing, and says, “Haggling takes quite a while, Mik. It’ll probably take hours before they return.”

“Hrm.” Mikhail scowls. “I don’t like staying on the ship.”

_ Me neither, _ Jin doesn’t say. “Why don’t we spar?” he suggests.

Mikhail stops and looks at him. Then he says, “Alright.”

They decide on the mess hall, and together they push tables and benches out of the way until they’ve got enough space for a few lunges. There they stand, facing each other, and Mik draws his fans while Jin draws his sword. 

Fans. An unusual weapon - tricky to use, easy to conceal, very short range.

“How’s your Ether?” Jin asks.

Mikhail shrugs. “It’s there.”

“Darkness, right?” Haze had mentioned it. 

“Yeah. What’s it got to do with this?”

“It… depends,” Jin says. “Do you know what Arts are?”

“It’s those fancy Blade attacks,” Mikhail says.

“Yes,” Jin says, encouraging. “And what kind of Ether a Blade has always impacts what kind of Arts they can do. As well as what type of Blade one is, I suppose. Like Haze is a Healer, for instance. I and Malos are Attackers. It doesn’t matter that much in the end, except that Healers are gifted with healing Arts that other Blades usually can’t use… Either way, darkness is a powerful element. Cole or Malos could probably give you better advice than me on how to wield it.”

“Right,” Mikhail says. “So. Sparring?”

“Well then,” Jin says, and grips his sword with both hands.

Mikhail draws closer, dares a stab with a fan. Jin twists away to the side, moves his sword to his left hand and brings it up for a blow - and when Mikhail parries that, Jin uses his other hand to raise a flurry of ice-cold mist, blowing it at Mik. The kid stumbles backward, sputters, and glares.

“Pay attention,” Jin chides gently. “And always fight dirty.”

Honour, glory and chivalry sank with Torna. 

Mikhail huffs, wipes the snow off his face. Stands up straighter. Summons his fans anew.

And then they fight.

* * *

After hauling boxes back and forth, talking to more merchants than Malos has ever seen in one place at once, and finally hiring some damn Salvagers for a small part of all the G they got for the stuff they snatched from the Indoline ship, they’re on their way back to the _ Marsanes. _ It’s not like they have a second ship, so unfortunately the two dozen Salvagers they brought are going to be coming along with the rest of them on the _ Marsanes. _

“I don’t like this,” Cole grumbles.

“Only a few days of journeying with these jolly Salvagers,” Ontos says. “Surely you can endure that?”

Malos rolls his eyes.

When they return, Jin and Mikhail are nowhere to be seen. Malos curses, lets Ontos, Cole and Haze ride herd on the Salvagers, and rushes off to look for Jin and Mik. He finds them in the mess hall, moving furniture around (Malos doesn’t really know what he was expecting) and he stops in the doorway to say, “Hey, you. We’ve got company. So if you two need to put on any cloaks or go hide in your rooms or something…”

“Maybe so,” Jin says, and turns to Mikhail. “Mik, you’ve still got that cloak in your room, yes?”

“I’ll go put it on,” Mikhail says, and leaves quickly.

Malos leans against the wall. “It’ll be about two days to get back to the edge of the world, and then another two days to return here.”

“Hmm,” Jin says. “Well, as long as Ontos gets as he wishes…”

Ontos. The last Aegis, the_ lost _ one, the one from another world, the one with seemingly all the answers yet he so often speaks nonsense. He _ sings _under his breath, he smiles at the sea and the sky like they’re long lost family, and Malos can never figure out whether he’s patronising the lot of them and playing them like a fiddle, or whether he’s just being painfully earnest, or whether he simply has no fucking clue how society works. Malos doesn’t even know whether or not he is a Blade - but by now Malos at least is damn fucking sure that the guy’s never been human.

He’s an Aegis. Probably more so than Malos and Mythra ever were.

_ “All you’re asking for is the means to seize your own destinies.” _

But yeah, what’s Malos gonna say against that? It’s all true. And the fact that Mythra would loathe being dragged from her grave by _ Malos _ of all people should at least make this whole wretched quest a little sweeter.

“Yeah,” Malos says. “Shouldn’t you fetch your own cloak, Jin?”

“I suppose,” Jin sighs, and makes for the door. Malos stands aside to let him pass, but Jin stops for a moment to rest his forehead against Malos’s, delicately. Some kind of emotion swells in Malos’s chest with such mad intensity he kind of wants to scream for a second, but then it passes and Malos realises that maybe what he _ really _ wants is to just stand here with Jin in the doorway for the next hundred years or so, touching each other like this.

But Jin’s already stepping away, turning and leaving, and Malos realises that _ hey, _ actually, maybe it’s high time he gets back down to the ship entrance and puts the fear of the Aegis into those Salvagers before they ruin the _ Marsanes _ or something.

It’s gonna be a long day.

* * *

The Salvagers are a decent bunch, as far as Cole can judge, and that night as they’re all gathered in the mess hall, Cole realises that this has to be the largest group of people he’s been among since - since he can’t even remember when. Must’ve been before the fall of Torna, at least. Abruptly he longs for the campfires they used to share back then, the camaraderie of sitting side by side, all working on their own crafts or sharing food, swapping stories. The smell of the little fire and the stars above them, silent observers, with the forest surrounding them on all sides like a mother’s embrace.

Cole has no home country but he loved Torna, he did. Its people and its culture and the ancient folk songs Lora used to get them singing at camp.

Now he pushes his mug aside, and gets up to sit down on the edge of the table. Higher ground. “Say, good Salvagers,” he begins, and faces turn toward him, even Jin’s. “Would you like to hear a tale?”

There’s scattered affirmations, but what really sticks is the way Jin and Haze both _ look _ at Cole all the way from their table at the other end of the hall. Cole clears his throat, spreads his hands in lack of scripts or instruments, and begins. “There was once a splendid Titan, carrying a golden kingdom on its back. And in this kingdom lived a man…”

Cole borrows elements from an old Tornan fairy tale, but changes things and names as he thinks fit for this new age. And if maybe he casts some of the heroes to sound just a bit like Lora, or Hugo, or Brighid - well, who’s to say?

And when he’s done and the cheering has died down, Ontos takes the stage instead to perform a song presumably from his home, while Haze excitedly waves Cole over to the table she’s now sharing with Mikhail, Jin, Addam’s kid and Malos. “Thank you,” Haze tells him, eyes almost shining, and presses a mug into his hands. “I haven’t heard any of your stories since - since Torna. I’ve missed it.”

“So have I,” Jin adds quietly.

“It’s been ages,” Mikhail seems to agree, looking down into his mug. 

“Thank you,” Cole says, but it’s not enough, and he finds himself holding up his mug and saying, “A toast to Torna.”

Haze, Mik and Jin all raise their glasses, and when Jin looks at Malos even he raises his mug, though slowly and reluctantly. “Do I even need to mention how awkward this feels?” Malos grumbles.

“Oh, quiet,” Haze chirps, and so they clank their glasses together and when Cole glances at Jin he nods at Cole, slow and deliberate, as if he approves, and Cole nods back.

“To Torna,” they echo, and then they drink.

* * *

The thing about Salvagers is that most people really don’t give a shit about them, so when Malos realises that morning that what they hired them to do is to _ dive down _ into the depths with only those stupid metal suits and _ air canisters _ to defend against the pressure and the water, and then attach some stupid balloons to the massive sunken warship, which will then make the wreck _ float up to the surface- _And there’s only two dozen of them doing it. It’s insane. It’s fascinating. It’s a career so absurd that Malos feels impressed.

They’re all clustered in the bridge, watching the progress of the Salvagers on Mikhail’s many monitors. When the old Tornan warship wreck starts rising to the surface though, everyone except Mikhail quickly start heading to the ship entrance, where the door is open and the ramp extended. They gather in the doorway to watch through it as the Cloud sea swirls and churns and how a massive blackened shape then breaks the surface, water sluicing off of it in bucketloads. The deck on top of the ship is fucking huge, and the rest of the ship even bigger to match. As big as the _ Marsanes, _ for sure.

Water sprays and cloud mist whirls as the ship bobs all the way up, rising like a black Titan. It's magnificent.

Soon the Salvagers start surfacing too, like ugly mechanical fishes, but who cares about them? Look at that warship.

“Wow…” the Kid breathes. _ “Those Salvagers! _ Aren’t they amazing!? When I grow up I’m gonna be a Salvager, too, and I’m going to find _ all _kinds of treasure…”

Some people have no taste.

Malos tunes the Kid out as Cole starts humouring him, walking out onto the ramp instead. Ontos follows him, and when Malos glances at him he realises that they’re wearing the same appreciative expression in face of this old behemoth of a ship. 

The Salvagers crawl up on the ship, and with ropes and metal bits attach some kind of bridge going from it to the ramp of the _ Marsanes, _ creating a walkway. A path connecting the _ Marsanes _ to the deck of that wreck.

It’s midday; sunny but windy weather. The clouds move and streak past the two ships, and the old sunken warship creaks as it shifts in the water.

Ontos comes to stand beside Malos, and for a moment they watch the ship in silence. Then Ontos says, "So Pneuma rests within."

Malos glances at Ontos; his expression is oddly sombre.

"So they say," Malos agrees. "I mean, if we're to trust that old codger’s word…"

"Let us embark, then," Ontos says. "No time like the present."

And with that, Ontos takes a skip out onto the thin bridge hanging between the wreck and the _ Marsanes, _and starts walking. Malos hears someone yell after Ontos, but as if spellbound, Malos follows, not caring in the least who comes after him or not. The bridge trembles with their footsteps and below him the Cloud sea churns, but it's only a few metres across the gap and then, then Malos is setting foot upon the deck of the old warship. And when he turns to look back, Jin's already by his side, Cole and Haze and the rest carefully braving the bridge.

Malos grins at Jin, who shakes his head a little. "Hell of a ship," Malos says with approval, after then stomping on the deck a little with his armoured boot and not even seeing any rust flake off. Now _ this _ is what he calls one water-resistant hunk of junk.

"Let's just follow Ontos," says Jin, and Malos is kind of surprised to see he's frowning.

Maybe it’s because the ship’s Tornan. Or maybe it’s because they’re here looking for Mythra.

Silently they hurry up after Ontos, who's reached the only building on deck, which if Malos has learnt anything about ships lately _ might _ just be the bridge. His sword flares to life with a brilliant flash of white, and as they approach Ontos slices neatly into the hinges of the door, iridescent sparks flaring as the hinges seemingly liquefy. The sight makes Malos yearn hungrily for his own sword-

And then the door falls in, and Ontos steps in after it, Jin and Malos quickly following.

Inside is a spiral staircase going down, duh, and after waiting for Cole, Haze, Mikhail and the Kid to catch up, they climb down it. To no one's surprise and everyone’s disappointment, the inside of the ship is dank, damp, and smells like dead fish. When they first enter a Crustip snarls at them, before Ontos quickly decapitates it, but Malos bets his ass it isn’t the only creature they’ll meet inside.

It’s dark. As they walk through the corridors the water sometimes reaches up to Malos’s knees, and sometimes the floor’s almost dry. The silence feels thick and oppressive and their footsteps echo, as does the sound of dripping water.

“This ship is pretty big, isn’t it?” the Kid whispers at some point, as they’re climbing down a ramp leading further into the damp fishy darkness of the belly of the ship.

“Looks like it,” Cole answers tersely.

Pipes, lining the ceiling. 

Water, splashing up around their feet as they walk.

Eyes, glimmering out of a dark crevice before launching out and evolving into an entire Crustip. Someone screams but Cole’s already shooting it, one two three times and then there’s silence. Some kind of pink slime oozes out from the Crustip, but only the Dark Blades can see that, so whatever. Addam’s kid won’t be terribly traumatised.

They continue, walking into a dryer chamber with a high ceiling and a large door at one end. Other than that, the hall looks like a dead end. Ontos stops, and so do Malos and Jin.

“Hey,” the Kid says, looking curiously at the door from where he’s clinging to Cole’s arm. “That’s the - the crest thing dad’s got on the wall back home!”

Malos looks at the door. And, engraved boldly in the middle, is indeed a large crest.

He looks at Jin.

“I don’t recognise it,” Jin murmurs. “Could very well be Addam’s personal crest.”

“The man did say we would need a Leftherian,” Ontos muses, and looks at the Kid.

The Kid looks at the door. With a sigh, Cole lets go of his hand and immediately the Kid dashes over to the door and its crest, both of them ridiculously much bigger than the little punk himself. But the Kid seems to again have lost all sense of caution and self-preservation, and boldly puts a hand on the door. Nothing happens. He jumps and reaches to slap a hand against the crest on the door instead-

And with a click and a hiss of stale air, the door parts in three halves which then slide into the walls and ceiling, baring a large corridor. High ceiling, broad space, lit in eerie blue. Yet completely dry and conspicuously empty of any Crustips, or insects, or even dust.

The Kid, who’s already made it a few steps inside of the corridor, looks back at them as if to see whether they’re coming or not.

None of them have made even a move to step forward.

Because they aren’t fucking stupid, of course, and if anything looks like a trap then this is it.

Cole looks almost as stressed as when they were being chased by warrior monks as he then says, “Don’t tell me there’s a security system.”

“Hey,” Malos says. “At least the Kid_ is _ a Leftherian-”

Haze and Cole both give him looks so appalled Malos feels… bad. He has somehow redeemed himself enough in their eyes for them to now be able to be _ disappointed _ in him. _ Repulsed _ by him. But he was forged in disappointment, raised on scorn and fear. And Ontos depends on this - Malos can almost imagine that he can feel _ her, _Mythra, sleeping like a stone that sunk this whole ship somewhere just past that corridor. So nevertheless, he carries on.

“We don’t exactly have a lot of options,” Malos says. “And the Kid’s doing fine, see? Maybe the system’s DNA-based or whatever the fuck.”

They all look at the Kid, who’s clearly hesitating where he stands. “Should I continue?” he asks in a small voice.

Cole, Haze and Malos open their mouths-

“Yes,” Ontos says, without hesitation. “There is another crest on the door on the other side of the corridor, see? Could you please go and open that door too, child?”

“Ontos-” Cole begins, agitatedly.

“Cole,” Ontos says, calmly. “Please trust me.”

There’s a brand new kind of tension being introduced to the room. Ontos and Cole have locked eyes, but even as they prepare for an argument- Malos watches the Kid start to walk again. Watches the blue sparks of Ether trail after his feet as he walks. Walking_ away _ from them, towards the door Ontos pointed out, and when the others realise this, Cole shuts his mouth again. Frowns, and he’s as tense as if he’s going to run after the Kid any second now, and Haze and Mikhail start to edge closer to the idiot-

But then the Kid’s already at the door, on the other side of the corridor, and he’s reaching up and pressing on the crest.

There’s a click.

The door parts and slides aside, and the Kid glances back at them - and this time Ontos steps confidently forward, walking into the corridor. And nothing happens, not even any Ether moving.

“...Looks like the Kid disabled the system,” Jin mutters.

Malos shrugs.

They follow.

Beyond the corridor is another large chamber, this one lit by the blue glow of the pools of pure Ether set into the floor. So much Ether so that even Malos can sense it - Water and Ice type Ether. Jin takes one big breath of the air, then shakes his head, dazed. Malos looks at him but Jin shakes his head again,_ I’m fine, _ and so Malos lets him be and instead looks to the middle of the chamber-

There’s a red sword stuck into a metal dais, but behind that there’s a pod. A steel monolith with a small glass compartment in the middle. And in that rests a Blade who sure fucking ain’t Mythra.

Malos looks at Jin, who says quickly, “She’s in disguise. But it _ is _ the Aegis.”

“Mythra made herself another personality,” Haze adds, softly. “She calls herself Pyra.”

They watch her, Mikhail with old anger and Haze with old regret. Jin with a blank face and Ontos with twinkling eyes, drawn brows as if he’s thinking. Malos shifts his weight from foot to foot and realises that... really, he doesn’t care that much anymore.

They fought, and for fucking _ what? _ The whims of their masters? The cruel bloodthirsty nature of an Aegis? Malos can admit that he mostly only did whatever the hell Amalthus dreamt about doing, taunting Mythra for shits and giggles. And oh, Mythra, how easy it was to rile her up - she sank Torna, she tore Malos to shreds, she ripped her own face away and left her body to this… _ Pyra. _ This facade. Clipped her wings and tore out her fangs like that could ever make her harmless.

The thing is that you just can’t get it if you weren’t there. All the Ardainians and Urayans dreaming about war - they don’t fucking get it. They’ve never seen Titans die, never heard the _ noises _ they make. Never seen entire cities crumbling in on themselves, never shoved their claws so deep in the mess of blood and guts that they knew they’d never come back from this, never be clean. 

In fleeting glimpses Malos still sometimes remembers how _ good _ it felt to be a monster, how good it felt to never care about a single thing. 

He sighs, heavily.

But not anymore. Never again. He can’t even summon forth his sword. Jin says that _ he’s _ lucky that Malos found him in that alley in Alba Cavanich, but then again Jin doesn’t seem to understand that when Malos tells him _ you're the only thing that made me feel like a person when I still had my Driver in my head, _ then what Malos really honestly with-all-his-goddamn-heart means is _ you’re the only thing that’s really made me feel like I might be alive. _

-So being faced with the Aegis, his partner, _ now- _ it really doesn’t have much of a kick to it.

He looks up at her, _ Pyra’s, _ face. Her eyes are closed, as if in sleep. Her armour is different but still doesn’t look Tornan in the least. Her hair’s the wrong colour but her face is the right dimensions, even if the details are wrong. Different. _ New. _

“So let’s get her out of here,” Malos says, breaking the brewing silence. “C’mon, back to the _ Marsanes. _ And _ don’t _ touch her sword, kid.”

* * *

So Ontos gingerly breaks the glass of the pod and they haul her out of there, Malos remembering to take her sword with them only as an afterthought - but the sword’s not there anymore. After giving the Kid a suspicious look and causing him to hide behind Cole for a moment, Malos realises that the sword must have dematerialised by itself.

That… is slightly alarming.

But not enough to warrant action, so they get going. It takes them some time get back up to the deck and across the bridge to the _ Marsanes, _ and as they walk it’s like there’s some kind of… pressure building. Like when an Electricity type Blade’s charging up and suddenly you can taste ozone and feel something bad coming.

It’s dangerous. It’s exciting.

They step inside of the _ Marsanes, _ Ontos and Cole still carrying Pyra between them, and then her limp body _ twitches. _ Everyone comes to a dead halt all at once right where they’re standing in the corridor, and Cole barely has the time to let go off her and back away before she’s startling awake, tearing awake, _ leaping _ awake. Flames explode out from her as she lands on the floor, and everyone’s too busy scrambling away as she struggles to her feet to notice her gripping her sword _ except for Malos- _

-and Jin, whose own slender sword comes up just in time to block Pyra’s, metal screaming as the swords slide off each other and Pyra gasping, looking at Jin. Then her eyes jump to Malos. Then her eyes go to the not-quite an affinity link Malos established with Jin in lieu of drawing his own sword, and Pyra sets her jaw.

And then she strikes again - Jin parries, but it’s taking some effort.

Flames are starting to lick at the walls around her, the floor beneath her feet sizzling. Her eyes are molten red and she gives off heat like a fucking sun, Jin protected only by a thin shield of Ice Ether. And Jin’s frowning, Jin’s gathering Ether for an Art of his own, and Malos gives him whatever of his own Ether he can spare-

And then Jin moves, striking beautifully with his nodachi even as spears of ice materialise around him and shoot at Pyra. She dodges a few, gets hit by some others. Some of the flames die but Pyra’s gripping her sword with both hands, advancing-

-and then stopping, gasping, clawing at her Core. Jin staggers and presses a hand against his forehead, his sword fading out of existence as some horrible pressure breaks the link between him and Malos, who turns and sees Haze standing there. 

“I am restraining your powers,” she says calmly into the ensuing silence, hands raised like a queen before her people, and Malos thinks, _ goddammit. _“Please lay down your weapons.”

He didn’t know Haze had_ this _ kind of power.

Jin goes quietly. Eventually, so does Pyra, with a wide-eyed look at Haze and Mikhail and- honestly, the whole lot of them.

“Thank you,” Ontos says when they’re done, and steps forward. Haze releases her hold on Pyra and Jin, and thankfully Pyra doesn’t attack again at that. Her eyes seem to be fixated on Ontos, who tells her in a weirdly soft voice, “It is so good to finally see you, Pneuma.”

“I… my name is Pyra…?” She’s wary. She’s glancing at Malos, who decides to, for once, not stir up some shit, and instead takes a step away from her and closer to the others.

“Pyra,” Ontos repeats. “What a spirited name.”

And then Ontos and Pyra simply stand there and stare into each other’s eyes for a long, silent moment, and Malos knows _ exactly _ what it is they’re doing, though everyone else obviously doesn’t. That weird telepathic communication that Ontos can initiate with other Aegises.

It lasts for a moment.

Then Ontos says, “Well?”

And Pyra turns to the group and says, politely, “I’m so sorry. I… did not expect to be awakened so soon. Is Addam still…?”

“My dad’s told me about you!” the Kid then chimes in, all bright-eyed dumb excitement. “He said you were his Blade but then a war happened and, and you told him to put you to eternal sleep. Like a fairytale princess.”

Malos and Jin share a look, then both raise their eyebrows at Cole, who ignores them.

“I… suppose that’s one way to put it,” Pyra says slowly, then looks helplessly at Cole.

“This is Addam’s son,” Cole explains. “And Addam is still alive. He told us where to find you.”

“And Lora…?” Pyra begins, and Haze’s face screws up while Jin turns away.

“She’s dead,” Mikhail says bluntly. “She died in Spessia with the other Tornan refugees. And meanwhile, you - what? Slept down there in that ship_ for what?” _

Pyra looks away and says in a small voice, “I’ve only ever brought desolation. I’m sorry, but This was for the best. I couldn’t risk anything happening again. You should never have come for me.”

And Malos thinks, _ what? _

Where the fuck is the attitude? Mythra wouldn’t have been this timid and quiet, Mythra- is Mythra even still alive in there? ...What did sinking Torna _ do _ to her? Do to a woman with _ conscience, _ who fought tooth and nail to stop Malos, who maybe after all came out of this looking the absolute _ worst, _ now that Malos thinks about it. What a lousy fucking war, if even the winners hate themselves.

Though really, there were no winners.

There are the survivors and then there’s those who didn’t.

But Pyra’s silence is still fucking unnerving, and _ annoying. _ “Hey, asshole,” Malos snarls. “I haven’t been following your old pals around for weeks only for you to now _ give up. _What the fuck? Didn’t you listen to a thing that Ontos no doubt told you? We need you.”

Pyra glares at him, inhales, exhales. “You killed Hugo,” she says, quietly. “Why should I ever listen to you?”

Malos shrugs. “Then don’t. But listen to _ them.” _

Jin, standing next to Malos, shoulders nearly touching and looking at Pyra with much the same expression as Malos. Cole, looking at Pyra with a weary anguished expression. Haze, standing next to Cole, sadness in her eyes. Mikhail, hanging back behind Haze, face still hard with anger. The goddamn Kid looking up at her like she’s the sun herself or something. And Ontos, the last of the Aegises, looking at her with infinite patience and cryptic wisdom.

It’s not been the worst thing in the world, traveling with these strange people. These people, Blades and half-bloods and everything in between, all of them touched by the war in some way-

And Malos likes the way Jin seems to relax when he’s with them. Likes how Cole hates Indol just as much as Malos, likes how Haze doesn’t take any shit, likes how Mikhail’s stubborn and Ontos is inexplicable. 

Malos - actually cares about something else than Jin.

The realisation is unpleasant, revolting, earth-shattering. It’s all good and well to start getting passionate about the rights of Flesh-Eaters, the death of the Architect and the freedom of all Blades and shit, going out there to make a change, but caring about _ people? _ Caring about tangible things right fucking here? 

He can’t drag these people with him to kill the Architect or destroy the world or wherever it is that this long dark road was supposed to take him. 

He-

He’s not going to destroy the world.

He’s the Endbringer, the Aegis of _ destruction, _ and now he’s realising that he can’t destroy the world after all? That he’s just going to let this horrible clockwork tick on and on because there are things in this world that he _ cares _about? 

He won’t destroy the world. He won’t.

But if he isn’t going to destroy the world anymore, then what the hell is even the _ point _ of him?

And in the silence after what Malos said _ before, _ before all this bullshit, Pyra, the Aegis who was supposed to save Torna, looks down at her feet and says, quietly, “Alright. I’ll help you change the world.”


	10. All Possible Futures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support!! I'm so happy that so many of you like this fic :D

This isn’t how she was meant to wake up.

Addam wanted to believe in a _ someday. _ Mythra never wanted to wake up again. And Pyra was undecided. She knew from the start that she wouldn’t actually be able to sleep down there forever, though, and she made the attempt despite it. Despite that one split-second fragment of a vision showing her some distant future with a new Driver for her- but this isn't that. Not even close. This is Malos and Ontos digging up her grave and making crazy demands.

If she had the right, she’d be furious.

If she were Mythra, she would be furious.

She doesn’t and she isn’t, but beneath her skin her anger bubbles like magma. Mythra was impulsive, so Pyra is not. Pyra saw the affinity link between Jin and Malos and acted accordingly - but then Haze was there, too, and that plan collapsed on itself.

So now Pyra is biding her time. She can’t _ stand _ herself. If she stops to _ think _ for even a minute she won’t be able to carry on, so she’s not going to - she’ll try not to let herself think. At all. But even now she’s taking note of all the people in the room, how many, who’s talking to who, a part of her mind chipping away at the screaming _ how, _how come they’ve all banded together like this? These people? She’s finding connections, staring at Ontos, turning his words over and over in her head and-

They’ve stepped into a cavernous room, now. Screens coat the wall in front of a set-up of consoles, and Pyra realises this is the bridge of the ship. _ What ship? _ She hasn’t asked. She wonders if anyone would answer if she _ did _ask, and so she tests out her theory by saying, “Where are we?”

“This is our ship,” Haze says, and glances quickly at her.

“The _ Marsanes!” _adds Mikhail proudly, and only a little viciously. “Perhaps the last Tornan warship in existence. Isn’t it a beauty? This ship is basically indestructible.”

That means nothing.

Not when Mythra is so unbelievably dangerous. These people do not understand that, or they don’t care, they’ve _ told _themselves that they don’t care. 

But their lives are so fragile. Addam’s life was so fragile, the Tornans’ lives as paper to them.

Malos and Ontos evidently don’t care; fine, Mythra’s already fought one of them, thought she’d ridden the world of him. But here they are. Not even fifty years have passed and already they’ve come for her, and Addam_ let _ them despite all that he promised, and they _ woke her up. _ There’s nothing Pyra is as aware of as the terrible power hidden in her Core. And she thought she’d have longer. She thought she’d be buried at the bottom of the sea for a hundred years at least, long enough for her to forget the exact way Torna fell at her hands. Long enough for her to maybe forget how to use that power.

To forget which key to use to unlock it.

But it wasn’t, she _didn’t _forget, and Pyra is quietly furious and - and this is where Mythra’s legacy comes in - so afraid she wants to tear herself apart.

And in the eye of that storm: Ontos.

While Pyra is reasonably sure that Malos’s Core has been damaged to the point where he can barely use his power, _ Ontos _ isn’t under any such limits. Ontos is a wildcard. Ontos doesn’t belong to this world. Ontos could do anything. Pyra has no idea what he wants, what his purpose is - but she’s watching him like a hawk. He has no need for more power, so not that; maybe he’s an idealist just wanting to help; maybe Malos has somehow tricked him into some scheme-

Pyra will figure it out, eventually. She’ll dedicate a small part of her mind to thinking about that.

And with the rest of her mind, she’ll try to figure out herself.

How to act. What to say. Addam’s son keeps staring at her, but it’ll be fine. She can ignore him. He can ignore her.

She’s watching Ontos, and now Ontos approaches her. Malos and Jin have already left, slipping out a minute ago, so all Pyra has to be wary of is Ontos. Which isn’t really true: _ all _of the people here seem unconcerned about being allied with Malos and Ontos, which is a fact Pyra carefully isn’t examining at all, and especially not now, when Ontos comes to stand in front of her. His posture is relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks her in the eyes and says, “As I told you before, I need your help.”

She can’t sense his Ether, is the thing.

Pyra can sense everyone else, even Malos, but not Ontos. There’s _ something, _ yes, but it’s not quite Ether. It feels weird and slippery and _ off. _ Some foreign contaminant. 

“Restoring Malos to his full power would only bring desolation,” Pyra says acidly. “Whatever you’re planning, find another way. Don’t make it so that Torna sank for nothing.”

“You said you would help,” Ontos points out, calmly.

_ “Yes!” _ Pyra’s temper flares for one burning second, before the guilt and shame and despair forces her head down beneath the surface again. Choking her. “Yes. I’ll help you. But not like this. There are other ways to make change, Ontos. All the war orphans, for instance. You could help those.”

“By whisking them away to some other country?” Ontos asks. “Pyra. You have this awesome power for a reason. There’s a flaw in this world, and we could undo it. Let me show you,” Ontos says, and takes her hands. Pyra doesn’t have the time to do a single thing before the crystal hanging around Ontos’s neck pulses with light, whitening out her vision. Blinding her.

And when her vision returns, she’s in Elysium.

The grassy field and the blue sky as soft as a dream, the hill with the lone tree. The distant forests at the edges of the meadow, and the sound of the eternally tolling bell. She whirls around, stretching her hands out, and that’s her own flesh still, a dream or reality-

“Come along.” 

-and Ontos is there, when she turns back. His silvery hair moves with the Elysian breeze, and nestled between his collar bones is - a key. Not a crystal, but an old brass key. Pyra's stomach churns.

She doesn’t trust this place.

"What are you doing?"

"I," says Ontos, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Am showing you the world of Alrest."

"I know all about Alrest." Pyra's head is full of data with no origin and no explanation: the approximate depth of the Cloud Sea, what Blade originated from which Titan, the chemical structure of every acid in Uraya's bowels. There's a limited amount of building blocks that still manage to combine into infinite different creations. Her Core can sense other Blade Cores around her and find out their weaknesses, track their positions and make simulations of further movements, predict her opponent's next move. She is always analysing the situation, looking for her next opening.

Ontos is trying to convince her of something? Let him _ try. _

"There’s nothing you could teach me about Alrest, because you're not from here," Pyra tells him, feeling a desperation so at odds with the peaceful blue skies above. "You don't belong to this world."

"And neither do you, nor our dear brother Malos." Ontos smiles serenely at her. And it’s not that the smile is fake, or threatening, but Pyra feels disquieted all the same. She can’t trust him. "We and your Architect are the last remnants of the civilisation before Alrest. To make this world, the Architect depended on you and Malos. You were _ essential _ in creating Alrest. And rather unfortunately, I was not a part of the process…"

"Because you disappeared."

_ Why? _

Ontos nods his head once. "I was needed elsewhere.” He holds out a hand. “Let’s take a walk.” 

When he starts walking Pyra follows, because _ no way _ is she letting him out of her sight, her anxiety held back close beneath her skin, and they’ve barely taken five steps before the landscape changes around them. The sky and the grass melts away, and then - they’re standing in the middle of nothing. They’re in the night sky, standing on a sheet of light. Around them is nothing.

Only darkness and distant stars and enormous shapes looming too close - planets.

Pyra can't be sure what Mythra would think of this. Pyra has never actually spoken to Mythra, though she knows her almost better than she knows herself. Sometimes. It feels like that sometimes. Like she’s less real than Mythra, even though, for all intents and purposes, Mythra no longer exists and Pyra is all that’s left.

A shadow. The unsatisfying epilogue to a great tragedy. A half-person thing.

“Look below,” Ontos tells her, and Pyra’s gaze jumps first to him, narrowly, and then down. Below them is yet another planet, closer than any of the others. It’s bigger than anything else Pyra has ever seen, blue with swirls of white across its surface. It looks - it looks _ alive. _ “That’s Alrest. And down there-” he points to the left, and there, floating at a level with them but connected to the planet below with a thin link, is some kind of - _ space station _ \- and the word drops into her head unbidden. “That must be your World Tree, is it not?”

Data, data, data. Pyra doesn’t know what to do, but oh. If it isn’t true.

Nausea festers in her throat.

“I’ve been informed Blades can’t live without Drivers,” Ontos says. “And that living with a Driver often brings them naught but pain. That Blades have no way of living as any other people, or of making a culture of their own.”

Pyra swallows. Remembering Minoth. And, worst of all, Malos.

He deserves no sympathy.

“There’s a computer terminal in your World Tree.”

They, she and Malos both, are destroyers of Titans and deserve _ nothing. _

“It could be used to rewrite the world. Could be used to change this one thing, and nothing else.”

She knows what he means. It’s how the Architect made everything down there, after all. But that power is too much for any one person to ever have. The amount they’d need to change the Blade system is a drop in the sea, an incision so precise many a surgeon would falter. It’s the most dangerous idea Pyra’s hear all day.

(and they woke _ her _ up today)

“Will you help us?” Ontos asks. His eyes are silver-blue lit from below.

“I’d help Minoth,” Pyra says. “Or Haze, or Mikhail - but not you. Not Malos.”

“Then let’s see what the others have to say,” Ontos says. And then the light blinds her again, and as soon as she can see clearly again after it, they’re back in the bridge of the _ Marsanes. _ Maybe they never even left at all. Maybe all of this is just in Pyra’s mind, and she’s still in the pod.

* * *

They all went up to the bridge. Mikhail took up the place in front of the consoles with ease, at once transferring all his attention from the people around him to the machines. Haze and Cole sat down on the boxes next to him, slowly, with glances at Pyra in between. The Kid on the other hand went to stand right beside the last Aegis, and Pyra crossed her arms and set her jaw and closed her eyes. And then Malos turned to Jin and said, “Can I talk to you?”

And now they’re standing out on that little ledge of a balcony on the hull of the _ Marsanes, _ quite like last time. 

It is evening.

They’re holding hands.

The old shipwreck still floats by the side of the _ Marsanes, _ but Jin looks past it and up at the World Tree. Stands there and feels his borrowed heart beat, pumping some kind of artificial blood around in veins he didn’t use to have before. And he thinks, that no one knows what kind of plant the Tree really is. Amalthus might’ve known something - but he’s dead now. A secret returned to the world. Many secrets. Amalthus sat on a mountain of information he lied and killed to get, and now all those secrets - good, bad, or terrible - have run out into the sand. Set free again. Back to the unknown.

Jin used to lie awake every night wondering what might have happened had he not learned about Flesh Eaters. If he’d never found his past self’s diary.

But that’s not what really happened. He'll never know what could have happened, he’ll never know any other way. He’s still living now and here and he’s got Malos right beside him, who turns to him and says gravely, “Our promise.”

Jin doesn’t care about the countries or the people or the wars but. He can’t force the horrible fate he’s chosen upon Haze or Cole or Addam’s kid either. He knows this, he’s always known this. And - have they not avenged the death of Torna already? Amalthus is dead. Haze is whole and alive. Jin, like most Blades at their Core, was made for love and not for hate - of course his love for their crew trumps his hate for all of Alrest.

So Jin looks Malos in the eye and says simply, “It’s a bad idea.”

He doesn’t know what to expect from Malos, now. How Malos is going to react.

But what Malos_ does _ is to throw up his free hand and exclaim, _ “Exactly! _ Amalthus is gone; we can do whatever we want. We should throw a fucking party.”

“Malos-” Jin begins.

“All that bastard thought about was destroying the world - destroying or _ owning _ it. He wanted to _ be _ the Architect. He almost believed he _ was _ the Architect.” Malos makes an angry, cutting gesture with his hand. “But now he’s gone and my head’s quiet. And now I know I love you, and even your old pals aren’t that bad, Jin. And Ontos said we could change the system, Jin! He said we could make it so that Blades won’t need Drivers anymore. Jin, can you picture it?” His eyes are shining. Malos is never very dispassionate, but this is still about the most excited Jin has ever seen him. 

“I…” Jin trails off. To remake the Blade system would be game-changing, obviously - all they’ve ever dreamt of. Changing the fate of every Blade. Changing the fate of every Blade and human and Nopon, every _ nation. _Just the thought of it feels flighty and whimsical, like the taste of too much hope. Jin clears his throat. “Do you believe it can be done?”

“With Ontos? And _ her?” _ In Malos’s dark eyes burns a fire. “Why not. At least we should try.” 

_ Trying. _

To have the luxury of deciding.

And letting go of their promise is not the same thing as letting go of Lora, as giving up. Opening his mouth and saying, “Let’s not destroy the world, then,” feels like taking a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a cave, a cellar. 

Malos grins at him, and his grin’s sharp, his eyes dark, his Core cracked - his hand that Jin is holding feels warm, like the realest thing in the world. Jin sways forward and presses their foreheads together, wanting so keenly to be close for a moment. To share the feeling. And Malos tilts his head so their lips brush together. Jin kisses him, then, and Malos puts a hand on Jin’s shoulder, leans into it. Makes a disgruntled noise when Jin withdraws, and Jin feels a smile splitting his own face, almost unexpectedly. “We need to get rid of the Salvagers,” Jin makes himself say, anyway, forcing himself to gather up his wits once more. Stand up straight. They need to get back on track. They need to make new plans.

Brand new plans for a brand new world.

“So we go back to that Pyrithium place,” Malos agrees. “And then what?”

And then what? Anything and everything...

The _ plans. _ Jin says, “Then I suppose we ask Ontos what the next step is.”

* * *

Everyone’s still loitering around in the bridge when Malos and Jin get back, which suits Malos just fine. They’ve come here to have a meeting, haven’t they? Jin and he aren’t thinking about destroying the world anymore, right, though it’s not like anyone else ever knew about those plans either way. How the fuck they’re going to proceed onwards from here, now _ that’s _ the real question, the hot new topic of today.

As soon as they step inside, Ontos comes over to them. “Malos, there are things I wish to discuss with you.”

“Then you can take that up with the both of us,” Malos says, and after a beat, Ontos nods.

“Well then,” Jin says, after glancing at Malos. “Let’s hear it.”

“What we wish to achieve is for Blades to live without Drivers, isn’t it so?”

“Yes.” Malos looks at Jin, and wonders when his desires turned the same as Jin’s, or when Jin’s became similar to his. Malos wants Blades to be free because he _ knows _how it feels now, to not have Amalthus in his mind like a parasite - and because Jin wants it, because Jin wants it for his people. 

“Hmm?” Haze pipes up. “You’re discussing this again?”

“What I told you about, Haze. And_ yes,” _ Cole says. “Enabling Blades to be able to live without Drivers is the goal. Don’t you agree, Haze?”

“Is that what Ontos wants?” Haze looks at Jin.

“It’s what _ we _ want,” Jin says, and squeezes Malos’s hand.

“And it can be done in two possible ways,” Ontos says, spreading his hands. “Either we change every Core one by one… Or we head for the World Tree, from which we could update every single Core at once.”

There’s no question about which course of action they should choose. 

“It’s possible to do it _ one by one?” _ Pyra asks, suddenly coming to life to stare accusingly at Ontos.

“Well, yes-”

“But we are obviously _ not doing that,” _ Malos says, crushing Ontos’s explanation underfoot. “It’d take five hundred fucking years.”

“Changing everything at once could be disastrous.” Pyra locks eyes with Malos. “What if something went wrong? What if we became like the Architect by doing this? And how can you be sure that every Blade even wants this?”

“Who _ wouldn’t _want it?” Malos exclaims, and gestures at where Jin, Haze and Cole are standing. “Fuck the risks, we’re doing this.”

Pyra takes a great heaving breath in, and says, “I won’t let you do it a second time. You felled two Titans on your _ rampage _ around Alrest, and I will not-”

“Three Titans,” Malos interjects, tired and annoyed. If she’s condemning him, she might as well make sure to get all his crimes on the list. (And Torna is the one he regrets the most). “And that’s the exact goddamn_ opposite _ of what I’m trying to do here!”

“Two Titans,” Pyra repeats, setting her jaw. “I sank Torna. That's _ on me. _ And that’s why I can’t let you do this!”

“No, you didn’t! You were Addam’s fucking champion, you dumbass punk, and the war was _ my fault. _ You don’t get to argue about-” Malos is absently aware of how, somewhere to the side of them, the rest of the bastard crew are starting exchange incredulous looks, but he doesn’t give a shit- “whose fault it is, it’s not even relevant to this discussion, and the blame is clearly-”

“Mine!” Pyra finishes. “I had one duty, two things to do, and that was to stop you and save Torna, and _ I didn’t succeed at either one!” _

Pyra is obviously angry, yet so obviously… angriest at herself most of all. Huh.

You learn new shit every day. 

“That sounds very complicated,” Ontos remarks sympathetically, as the both of them fume quietly. “Maybe none of you are to blame?”

_ “No!” _ Malos and Pyra exclaim instantly, at the same time, and then Cole raises his voice and says,

“Why don’t we have a vote about the issue of the Cores, like civilised people?” 

Pyra sets her jaw, and says quietly, “We’ve caused so much destruction and death. How can any of you trust Malos - trust _ any _ of us! - to not do it again? To do this change, we’d be wielding the power of _ gods. _How could you ever trust us?”

Fuck, and if that isn’t the question keeping Malos up at night.

“People change,” Haze says gently, and looks directly at Pyra. “I woke up just a few weeks ago, and in the time I’d been absent, everyone had changed. Mikhail, Cole, Jin - and Malos most of all. _ I _had changed. I can’t ever go back to who I was when Lora was still alive - but I’m lucky enough to still remember it. Blades weren’t made to have history. I’m just trying to appreciate the good memories, and learn from the bad.”

“Haze…”

“I don’t know whether Ontos, and you - all of us - could really do it,” Haze says. “Somehow change all of Alrest so that Blades don’t have to go back to their Cores anymore. But no matter what, I at least want to_ try.” _

Malos has no idea what goes through Pyra’s head, but he guesses she’s considering her distrust of Malos vs the contents of Haze’s speech. Maybe she’s preparing an argument. Maybe she’s just thinking. Her fists are clenched.

“I’m not Mythra,” she says, finally. “But I can’t forget what happened in Torna. I said I’d help you, but…”

Haze looks patiently at Pyra. They’re all watching her, but Pyra’s looking at Haze.

“I’m not going to fight.” Pyra closes her eyes. “I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime, already.”

Well, if that’s her decision. As long as she’s helping, Malos doesn’t give a shit.

Mikhail says, idly, breaking the weird stalemate, “So, we’re going back to the Pyrithium Guild, then to the World Tree?”

“Don’t forget Leftheria,” Cole adds. “We’ve got to return the Kid.”

* * *

People get up and go their separate ways. Pyra remains rooted to the spot, a slurry of rage-terror-anxiety-exhilaration in her veins keeping her busy.

It’s like she’s only an imitation of Mythra, less real than her.

But her body_ never feels like that. _

Every feeling hits like a bomb. Pyra was made to be what Mythra wasn’t. Sophisticated. In control. Talented. Sweet. Mythra blames herself for the death of Torna because the blame falls on her, and Pyra blames herself because she wouldn’t ever dream of blaming anyone else. It’s just another burden she carries for her sister.

But if there’s any way for her to make it up to the world for all she’s done… If there’s a way for them to redeem themselves… if there’s a way for Pyra to repent…

Mythra isn’t here. Pyra is the one who’s in control. If Pyra attempts to change their fate for the better, do some sort of penance by helping Bladekind, then Mythra can’t stop her. Because even though Pyra’s always analysing and collecting data she’s still certain of so little, and what she truly without a doubt _ knows _ is this: she’s a bad omen. She loathes herself with good reason. She should be dead - but if she can’t do that, then what she _ should _ put every ounce of her will and energy into is helping people. Trying to make the world a little better.

These people are hell-bent on doing what they want.

So if Pyra wants to make sure nobody takes the Architect’s power for themselves… She needs to follow them. She needs to come along for the journey.

She won’t fight. But she’ll help Haze and Mikhail and the others in small ways. She’ll try to sort out the mess in her head. 

She’ll try to get used to existing.

Ontos stays behind in the bridge even as Malos (and Jin) leave. When Pyra makes the mistake of looking at him, he starts approaching her. “I apologise if I’ve offended you,” he says, as soon as he reaches her. “But the truth is that we _ need _ to get into the World Tree to do this.”

“I know,” Pyra says, but can’t quite keep the disapproval out of her voice.

Ontos holds a hand out to her and says, gently, “We are the answer to everything, Pyra. Together. So will you help us?”

On one hand, this. Slowly figuring out the future.

And on the other, _ Malos. _The fear of another calamity.

Mythra might’ve said no.

But Pyra’s not her.

“Alright,” Pyra says, steeling herself. “But I meant what I said; the only way I’ll fight is in self-defense.”

* * *

Haze decides to help Jin out in the kitchen that night, seeing as they need to feed those Salvagers as well as themselves. They’ve mostly just got meat, but Jin can still make an acceptable meal out of that, and he gladly accepts Haze’s help, directing her to cut up some meat. When Cole then shows up in the doorway, looking like he’s out of a job, Haze quickly ropes him into slicing meat with her. Jin doesn’t mind.

When Pyra steps inside, however, all activity stops.

Jin looks at her with a heavy gaze, and Pyra says, “I was wondering if I could help with anything?”

Mythra’s cooking wasn’t the best, even though she tried really hard - and of course they all appreciated her effort! But her dishes were still… hmm.

“I think you’d better not,” Jin says.

“Oh,” Pyra says. “Don’t worry. My cooking skills are a pretty big upgrade from Mythra’s.”

Haze glances at Cole, who’s expression is blank. Jin’s frowning. 

“Well then,” Jin says, finally, stiffly. “Would you mind frying the meat?”

Pyra’s sudden relieved smile catches Haze off guard. “Not at all!”

Pyra starts up the stove, looks around until she finds the only frying pan, and then gets started frying up the stack of meat slices Haze and Cole have made so far. Her face is harder to read than Mythra’s, even though, on closer inspection, Haze realises that their faces are nearly the same. It’d be a truly uncanny resemblance, if they were anything but the Aegis. 

Haze lets Cole take over the rest of the meat preparations, drawing closer to Pyra instead. She’s a little curious - but mostly she’s wondering whether Pyra needs some assistance or not. Haze is kind of expecting the meat to be burning, or salted beyond saving, but as she takes a guilty peek over Pyra’s shoulder she sees that… the meat seems completely fine. Haze smiles and says, “That looks great! I’m sorry for doubting you, Pyra.”

Pyra quickly turns her face away and says, “Oh, it’s nothing. Thanks, Haze.”

It hits Haze then, that of course nobody ever complimented Mythra’s cooking. So Haze takes a deep breath and says, sincerely, “That meat really does smell wonderful. Thanks for helping out.”

Pyra nods, and carefully flips over the meat bits one by one with her spatula, face hidden by her hair.

Pyra’s got no one, Haze realises uncomfortably. Pyra must feel like she’s among strangers, with everyone walking on their tiptoes. Like she’s backed into a corner. Haze can get that. Haze abruptly wants to be better, to try to be there for Pyra. She never really bonded with Mythra, but maybe Pyra...

And when Haze returns to her own cutting board, she catches Jin looking at her. Looking at them. So Haze looks at him sternly, until Jin shifts and not quite nods and turns back to making the salad.

* * *

When Malos wakes up Jin’s mashed his face into the crook of his neck, lying half on top of him and pressing Malos’s back against the hard metal edge separating their two cots. They desperately need to get new furniture. Malos shifts just enough so that his back and shoulder won’t kill him, then looks down at Jin’s face. He’s frowning in his sleep, but when Malos puts a hand over his Core and closes his eyes - trying to hold on to the _ sense _ of Ether is like trying to catch eels - all is okay. Jin’s Ether levels are as normal as they can be.

When Malos leans back, Jin’s forehead has smoothed out and he’s breathing slowly, and Malos has to take a _ moment. _ For fuck’s sake. If Amalthus’s feelings were black sludge over his mind, then the feeling Malos was just hit with feels like - like throwing back the curtains and being blinded by the sun.

Malos leans down and kisses Jin’s Core crystal, then sits up. 

Right. 

They need to get rid of all their unwanted houseguests. First of all, the Salvagers. They’ve done their job, hauled up that ship, and now they’ve all arrived back at the Pyrithium Trade Guild, so Malos is throwing them into the street at first opportunity.

He wakes Jin. They get up. They put on their armour and their cloaks and walk together to the bridge.

Beneath the hood of his cloak, Malos is feeling smug and victorious. As far as plans go - and Malos isn’t exactly a strategising genius, but who’s fucking counting - this one feels great. Their goal’s so close he can almost feel it, completely different from his and Jin’s promise back in Mor Ardain. That plan was built on hate, and would’ve taken a hundred years to finish, felt ridiculously unattainable- the goal there wasn’t victory. It was_ everyone _ losing.

But this time they’ve killed Amalthus, they’re on the last stretch of the road, and they’re winning.

Indol can’t do a thing against Ontos. Indol doesn’t even know Ontos exists, or that their gang just brought the second Aegis back to the world. Indol doesn’t know a goddamn thing.

The _ Architect _ doesn’t know a thing.

Ontos isn’t even of this world. He’s something completely new. Malos and Mythra might’ve been awakened with their destinies already tied like snares around their necks, a monster and a failure, but Ontos- he could do anything. 

In the bridge they all meet. Mikhail looks up from his monitors and says, “I’m docking at Pyrithium right now. Someone needs to get out there and pay the fee.”

“I’ll go,” Haze says, already leaving, the Kid tagging along excitedly.

“I’ll go rouse the Salvagers,” Cole offers next, and Jin nods.

“Good. Malos, can you go assist him?”

They both grumble but comply, because in the end it doesn’t matter. They’ve got bigger things ahead. They knock on doors, wake people up and gather all the Salvagers by the ship exit. And when Haze and the Kid return, Malos, Cole, the Salvagers and Ontos are already waiting there. Ontos came down for seemingly no other reason than to say, “Thank you all for your invaluable assistance. We are most grateful.”

“We’re just doing our job,” one of the Salvagers, a Gormotti guy, says. “Not many people appreciate it, but the building blocks for our future’s right down _ there, _ in the deep. Everything ends up in the Cloud Sea sooner or later. Everything.”

“Hmm?” Ontos hums, interested, and Malos rolls his eyes.

“The legacy of Judicium could be waiting down there!” the Salvager continues, excited. “They made such remarkable leaps in medical science, just imagine-”

“Yeah, yeah,” says another Salvager, an Urayan, and elbows the Gormotti man. “Let’s just leave and get our hands on the next assignment.”

Malos is glad to show the Salvagers out. The technology of Judicium should’ve damn well _ stayed _ buried.

“Great,” Malos says, as the door seals up after the Salvagers. “To the bridge, chop chop.” 

* * *

Cole is starting to appreciate the Kid’s enthusiasm and company, but as time passes he is also becoming more and more aware of how much they need to return the Kid to his father. Addam has to be worried - it’s been weeks already, and their crew isn’t exactly composed out of the most trustworthy of individuals. He’s sure they could protect the Kid against nearly anything, but again. The Kid has to go home.

He brings it up as soon as the Salvagers have left them, when they’re all gathered in the bridge again. Some kind soul - probably Haze - has brought over a bunch of chairs and placed them around the room, so that now everyone has somewhere to sit. They’re sitting there now, like a small council of outcasts.

“Alright,” Cole says. “As much fun as it has been, having you tag along with us son, we’ve got to return you to your father before he starts thinking we’ve kidnapped you.”

“Hey!” the Kid protests immediately, kicking his legs where he’s perched. “He won’t think that. He knows I’m with you, and that everything’s fine.”

As nice as that is to hear, Cole has to disagree. He backs up his argument. “I’m sorry, but we promised to return you within a month. Didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did,” Haze agrees, but smiles kindly at the Kid. “We just don’t want your father to worry.”

Malos and Jin are having a private conversation in a corner, and Pyra and Ontos are also murmuring in lowered voices where they’re sitting - but now Pyra’s reacting, looking up and joining the discussion.

“If you swore to be back within a month… Addam is probably waiting anxiously already.”

The Kid pouts. “It’s not fair! I finally got to meet you all, and I’m befriending Pyra. This is fun. I don’t wanna go home!”

“I’m afraid this life is not suited for a child,” Jin says suddenly, and Cole looks up to see that he and Malos have come closer.

“Indeed,” Cole agrees to Jin’s statement, looking seriously at the Kid. “Don’t you miss your village? Your friends?”

“But this is the fun-est adventure I‘ve ever been on!” the Kid protests, pleading.

“Kid,” Malos begins, gruffly. “We’re wanted in _ at least _one country for the murder of the Praetor; you don’t want to hang with us.”

The Kid bites his lip and clenches his fists, but Cole still says, “Mikhail. We’re heading to Leftheria.”

And Mikhail replies distractedly, “Sure, whatever,” while the Kid jumps up from his stool and storms out of the room, and Cole marvels at the whole spectacle of it. Humans, born as tiny babies with not a thought in their head, growing into bright little wonder-menaces. Sprouting teeth and opinions and daydreams. Getting taller and angrier. Once upon a time, every single Driver was a baby.

It’s mind-blowing to consider, sometimes. Cole used to write so many pieces about growing up before he got more fascinated by the nuances of love and war, but still - _ kids. _ Aren’t they spectacular? Aren’t _ humans? _ Humans are quite capable of evil, yes, and it’s all their fault and their greed and lust for power - but Cole can’t hate them all, hate their kind for it. Not when he can remember _ Addam, _ and Lora and Hugo, and many a brave Tornan civilian and Ardainian soldier.

“Aw no,” says Haze. “I think we’ve upset him…”

“I’ll go after him,” Cole says, getting up and following the Kid out into the_ Marsanes. _

He finds him sitting just outside in the corridor leading to the bridge, and crouches down next to him. “Hey,” he says, making his voice be gentle.

“I don’t wanna go home,” the Kid grumbles miserably, knees tucked against his chest. “‘s so boring there. I wanna see the world.”

“You can do that when you’re older,” Cole tells him, placating him. “Your dad still has a lot of things to teach you, before you can start travelling around.”

The Kid scowls and kicks at the floor, then mumbles, “Does that mean I can join your crew again when I’m older?”

“We’ll see,” Cole answers vaguely. He doubts the Kid will remember or care once he’s finally old enough, and Cole hopes that he’ll just… settle down. Grow gromrice. See no bloodshed or disaster. Adventure never treats humans well.

“I’ll miss you,” the Kid says miserably.

_ And your dad’s been missing you. _Cole doesn’t know what to tell the Kid, so he just pats him on the shoulder, and doesn’t protest when the Kid turns it into a hug.

For all his many plays and short stories packed with tear-filled reunions, emotional speeches and moonlight embracing, Cole isn’t much of a natural at comforting people. Or any physical contact, any talk of emotions. What’s recognisable on paper can be completely incomprehensible in life - Cole’s glad that Addam never seemed to mind, or Mythra and Milton. 

_ ‘I’ll miss you’ _

Maybe Cole hasn’t been doing too badly, after all.

* * *

It’s evening when the _ Marsanes _ glides into the natural stone cove by that big Leftherian island, and the setting sun makes the Cloud Sea and the beaches of white sand all look orange. When Mikhail attempts to dock the ship smacks first into a cliff, and then into a stim of Lexoses. He curses and mashes buttons, and Malos waits impatiently. Cole is entertaining the Kid by telling him a heavily censored war story, while Jin, Haze and Ontos are all sitting patiently in their chairs. Pyra seems absolutely enchanted by Mikhail’s damn screens - maybe it’s the coastline? Fuck if Malos knows.

He hasn’t been paying that much attention to her. Because she isn’t Mythra, is she?

That fact’s really throwing him off.

Her whole _ existence _ is throwing him off. He’s not exactly mad at her, but he can’t just ignore her either. Just quietly tolerating her feels weird, but what else can he do?

“We’ve docked,” Mikhail announces. “Let’s get this over with.”

The Kid clings to Cole’s hand the whole way through the ship and down to the beach. The waves lap weakly against shore. Everything is bathed in golden light, including Malos’s eyes. He pulls up the hood of his cloak and joins Jin, walking in front of their crew. _ Their _ crew. It’s - yeah. Hmm.

They've been running for a long time. But fuck if they didn't have the time to kill Amalthus, save Haze and Mikhail, and find Pyra even so. With enough effort they could do anything - they have the time. They have the _ will, _they have the guts no human will ever have, and they’re going to win this. They’re going to the World Tree.

As soon as they’ve gotten rid of the brat.

They walk along the outskirt of the village, meeting no one, and when they arrive at Addam’s house the Kid seems to have gotten over himself and runs excitedly to knock on the door. When the door opens the Kid flings himself at Addam, who barely catches him, and then they just stand there for a long moment. The Kid whispers something to his father, who ruffles his hair in return, and then Addam looks up and sees Pyra.

Pyra lets the hood of her own cloak fall back, and says, “It’s… been a long time.”

Addam steps off the porch, coming a few steps forward. He closes his eyes for a moment. “It has. Hello, Pyra.” He opens his eyes to look at her and smiles wryly with his old weathered face. “I hope you’re not too mad at me for revealing the location of your resting place.”

Pyra shakes her head and says softly, “It was always going to happen, eventually.”

Right, this is getting too weird. Malos looks at Jin, who glances back at him after a moment, then smiles at whatever he sees and shakes his head. What?

The Kid comes over to tug on Addam’s sleeve, and Addam says, “Well. My son is safe, you brought him back…” He looks at Malos, at Pyra, and then at Cole, and finishes with a sigh, “Go away and do no harm, I suppose. I’m not going to stop you. Farewell.”

Pyra and Cole tell him to take care. Haze wishes him goodbye.

And then they’re walking back to the _ Marsanes, _ Malos and Jin, Ontos, Cole, Haze, Mikhail, and Pyra. Their ship’s visible from far away here in the middle of nowhere, an enormous hunk of sturdy metal blocking the view of the World Tree and looming above the trees and cliffs. 

There’s salt on the breeze. 

Ontos is starting to hum one of his infernal melodies again, but even that doesn’t put a dent in Malos’s mood. It feels so damn good to have a purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've now put the chapter amount at 12, and I'm hoping to finish this up as soon as possible, but I don't know when that'll be. My school's swapped to online classes for the foreseeable future though, which might help me... and I've officially hit 100 pages on my google doc for this fic!


	11. The Towering Yggdrasil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone & thanks for the feedback!!  
-spoilers for later xc2 chapters? i guess?

Whenever some idiot soldier from Uraya or Mor Ardain or anywhere would insult Blades back at camp, any of the camps Mikhail stayed at, Mik would turn away and say nothing and his expression wouldn’t even twitch. 

Lora and her Blades, Jin and Haze, were the first family Mikhail had ever had.

And some soldiers would sneer and blame their failures on their Blades and call them _ less _ than human, as if any Blade wasn’t worth _ ten _ of them. A hundred. As if they didn’t _ choose _ to become Drivers themselves, ungrateful assholes. Mikhail’s human father and mother sold him to slavery while Haze, Jin, Lora took him in and gave him a home. So Mikhail certainly doesn’t mind _ being _ part Blade - he takes offense to everything else about it, how it happened, but the Blade aspect itself… whatever. Maybe he can see a little better in the dark now. Maybe he has Blade weapons now. He’s not going to waste time worrying about details when he’s right inside a fully functioning Tornan warship.

He doesn’t know whether it’s the Core crystal making him this crazy about it, but the Marsanes never fails to make him lose track of time. In the bridge, Mikhail’s on top of the world, the screens show him everything he needs to know and he can keep an eye on it all easily. The machinery is familiar, he can take it apart and put it back together and improve it. He _ gets _ the Marsanes. As long as he doesn’t think too hard about _ how _ he knows how the machinery works, it’s all good. 

He’s content, more so than he’s been since the old golden days.

Hell. Most of the old crew - more than he ever expected to see again, at least - are here now. Jin and Haze and Cole, Malos, strange as it was as first, and Ontos as the new addition, but so far it’s all been working, they’re a functioning system-

But _ Pyra _ joining them?

Mikhail has his doubts, yet at the same time, Mythra’s not here. Mythra is very obviously not here. Pyra is outwardly not like her at all; she’s quiet and competent and _ watchful. _

(she’s also not the only one who knows how to keep an eye on things around here. Mikhail can play the long game)

Pyra is not Mythra. Mikhail saw Pyra just once before Spessia - and sure, Mythra may not have been the one to kill Milton, Mikhail can see that, but Pyra deserted the Tornans when they needed her more than ever. _ Addam _ deserted his people. He was a prince, the Driver of the goddamn Aegis! He was _ supposed to do something! _

The problem with blaming Pyra for that is, of course, as Mikhail wanted to remind every ungrateful Driver at camp as a kid, that Blades don’t have a lot of indepence.

If Mikhail’s going to judge Pyra, then it should be for _ her _ actions alone. So, Mikhail will wait to form an opinion on Pyra. He has the time, doesn’t he?

* * *

Night comes fast. Haze is in the kitchen making soup when she realises that it’s night already, even though they haven’t eaten their evening meal yet. She got Jin to give her a simple soup recipe earlier, and she’s testing it out - she thought, what better time than now? They’ve delivered both Salvagers and Kid safely home, and the mess hall is empty. When the others show up for an evening meal - if they do - then Haze will already have prepared a meal for them. Soup, and dumplings to cook in the soup.

She’s working on the dough when Cole slips into the kitchen. He comes up and looks quietly into the pot, then says, “Can I ask what you’re making?”

“Ruska dumpling soup.” Haze smiles at Cole.

“My favourite,” Cole says, and looks at her with an almost-smile of his own.

Haze lets him help with stirring the soup while she takes care of the dumplings, and they work in comfortable silence. They weren’t that close before, Haze thinks, but now - it’s as she said. Time changes people, changes everything. And while Haze doesn’t quite know what’s going on in Jin’s head anymore, Cole on the other hand wasn’t_ that _close to Lora. To Lora or her team.

It’s almost a relief. When they visited Addam Haze saw that Cole _ does _ have some history that rests heavy on his shoulders, but he just doesn’t have it with the rest of them. Addam was Cole’s hero; Haze doesn’t know whether losing the war changed that.

Haze doesn’t have to know. Right now, making soup together is enough.

* * *

The rest of their crew joins them in the mess hall when they’re done with Haze’s soup, even Pyra. Haze chooses to sit down next to Pyra so Cole picks a seat at their table too. He doesn’t, to be honest, mind Pyra. He doesn’t blame her - or Mythra - for what happened. He’d be blaming Addam too, if he blamed her, and it doesn’t sit right with Cole. He damn well knows Addam made a bad decision. But Addam had also been so tired; he obviously hadn’t taken Hugo’s death well, none of them did. And none of them expected the Indoline forces to hunt the Tornans down, not then and there and not so violently.

It was clear to see, on both Addam’s and Pyra’s faces, that they both already regretted that they left enough.

When Haze clears away her bowl, she switches seats to sit next to Jin instead, but Cole doesn’t move. Instead he looks at Pyra, who’s carefully sipping the last of the broth from her bowl. Her armour appears to be sturdier than Mythra’s, chest plates black instead of white, her tights now red greaves. Her pauldrons have changed to cover the entirety of her shoulders, and the glowing green highlights have become muted, the colours less noticeable. It’s like she’s preparing for war - more so than Mythra ever seemed to. Like learning to sleep with a gun under your pillow.

Cole’s not great at connecting to people. But Mythra never was, either - Addam’s two oddballs they were, darkness and light. They got along well enough. 

Pyra glances at him, and Cole figures why the hell not and says conversationally, “So, what do you think about this ship?”

* * *

When Haze gets up to clear away their bowls Jin tags along, and they wash dishes standing side by side at the sink and talk about the World Tree. Then they talk about Lora. Neither of them means to start the discussion, Jin thinks, but all of a sudden Haze is recounting a story about revealing a corrupt apothecary for who he was together with Lora once and- of course it still hurts. But Jin can talk around the ache in his chest. The pain doesn’t eat him alive anymore, doesn’t drown him like it used to.

Haze sighs and says that she misses Lora’s awful hoarse honking laughter, and Jin nods and swallows. What doesn’t he miss about Lora? His Core has never stopped trying to reach out for her.

“Hey.” And there’s Malos standing in the doorway, rapping his knuckles on the wall. They look at him. “You two done yet?”

“Sure,” Haze says, brightly, innocently, and gestures toward the now clean bowls laid out around the sink. “We were just putting these away - you wouldn’t mind helping, would you?” There’s a moment, but then… Jin watches with amusement as Malos folds, grumbling about how he’s only assisting because Haze would be too short to reach the shelves without help. Haze quips back that _ that _surely means Malos will be offering to assist them in the kitchen the next time too, then, and Jin quietly watches them bicker. 

There’s no regaining what you’ve lost. Trying to make something new, however… could they?

* * *

Haze bids them goodnight and Malos genuinely can’t fucking tell whether she’s being cheeky or not, Jin tells her he’ll see her in the morning, and then they part ways. When they step outside the kitchen the mess hall is deserted apart from Pyra, who they nearly bump into in the doorway before she leaves. Whatever. She’s not Malos’s problem, not right now. She’s made it clear she despises him, and Malos certainly gets that. 

Malos and Jin walk back to their room, sharing a silence. They reach their room, and Jin strips off his coat, before picking up a book he’d been reading. Malos sheds his armour and stretches before sprawling on the bed, and he watches Jin flip a few pages, sit in unmoving silence for a minute, then put his book down. 

Jin gets up again. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and measured. “I’m going to visit Lora.”

Lora’s body. Frozen in a chunk of ice as big as the storage room she rests in, like something out of an Indoline painting. Frozen in the cold and the dark and it’s the dead of night and Malos isn’t sure what Jin might be thinking, what the tension in his shoulders means, but he can guess and if nothing else then at least Malos can _ be there _ for him so Malos swings his legs over the edge of the bed and says, “Then I’m coming with.” And Jin catches his eye, quiet, and then he nods. 

Malos can’t fault a man for saying goodbye, can he?

* * *

Pyra never got to meet Milton, or Hugo, Brighid, Aegeon - she knows they meant a lot to others though, so she - she can’t really say they _ meant _ something to her, because she’s not Mythra, but she can’t say they didn’t mean anything to her, either. That they don’t. That Pyra doesn’t think about them, and yet they’ve been dead for nearly 26 years now. She’s found a balcony on the hull of the ship and there she stands now, watching far-away Titans move in the night and wondering whether any of them are Gormott or Uraya, whether any people she’s hurt are living there.

The World Tree looms closer and closer, the ship steered there by Mikhail (who grew up into a fine pilot and a Blade Eater and _ none _ of this is what Pyra thought would happen), and Pyra grits her teeth. What she has destroyed can never be compensated for, but she has to try. She must. For the futures of those who still live, she will try.

Yesterday is too late to help, but tomorrow’s another story.

* * *

He’s the eldest of three (four? he hopes the topic will come up sooner rather than later) siblings. He’s glad to have met Malos and Pyra, at any rate. He’s becoming quite fond of them. If he’s indeed got another sister, then he’d like to meet her too.

He, however, holds no high hopes for who awaits them at the top of the so-called World Tree, and he doubts he’ll be surprised. He doesn’t even need his (in this universe somewhat limited) foresight to tell him that. He’s been an administrative supercomputer, a seer and a god-slaying sword, and through it all Klaus has almost exclusively let him down.

* * *

When Pyra steps into the bridge sometime after dawn, Mikhail is already there and manning the controls. She doesn’t know whether he ever left to sleep. Watching him is Haze, sitting in one of the chairs - she’s his Blade, Pyra recalls. The only one of them to have a Driver. If Pyra tries hard enough to sense it, she can feel that Addam’s alive out there, currently feeling much the same as her… but at this point, that no longer matters. Their time is over. Addam has a son. Pyra has a duty.

She takes a seat next to Haze, who smiles at her as she sits down and says, “Good morning! Mikhail says we’re almost there.”

Pyra, warmed by Haze’s smile, actually manages to smile back.

“We are?” she then asks, rhetorically, and glances up at Mikhail’s screens, easily singling out the one showing the view from the bow of the ship. The World Tree takes up nearly half the screen, but in between the ship and the Tree is something large that sticks up out of the Cloud Sea. _ Very _ large, as Pyra realises the closer and closer Mikhail steers them, mottled brown and grey and massive, and with a sinking feeling in her stomach she realises that it’s almost the size of a-

“Is that a dead Titan?” _ Malos. _

Pyra turns, quickly, but behind Malos is Mi-_ Cole _ who says, “I think that could be Morytha.”

“Morytha?” Mikhail frowns, eyes narrowing at his screen. 

“A long dead Titan,” Cole explains. “Some folks say that the Ardainians originally hailed from there. I thought it would’ve sunk by now...”

It looks nothing like Torna, really, except for the grass and the cliffs. Her pulse slows as she takes in the unfamiliar details. Pyra can’t see what shape it was before dying, and guesses that parts of it must already be submerged. The Cloud Sea bends unnaturally around it on one side, as if Morytha itself is pulling the clouds down with it into the void, the sea bending inwards. They are very close to the Tree. Pyra hasn’t thought about the Architect in so long, but now she has a fleeting, uneasy thought which soon blooms into a whole chain of them. In the war everyone had theories about what Father was _ thinking, _ sending Mythra there-

He never _ sent _ anyone anywhere. Pyra cannot remember a single thing about the Architect, except for this: He made her. Them. The world. 

Elysium.

On Mikhail’s screen Pyra suddenly catches the glimpse of a long purple tail dipping into the Cloud Sea farther up ahead. The realisation clicks at once, no matter that she - Mythra - used the Artifice only once. Artifice Ophion is circling the World Tree.

Caution’s needed. Pyra closes her eyes and carefully attempts to reach it. She quickly starts thinking that they’re still too far away, however, that Ophion can’t pick up on her signal. There’s no reply. On Mikhail’s screen the Cloud Sea stretches out peacefully for another Titan’s length yet, and they’ve glided past Morytha. No more signs of Ophion. No one else seems to have noticed, and Pyra clenches and unclenches her fists.

Nothing to it but waiting and seeing and being ready.

The rest of the crew joins them in the bridge eventually, and soon everyone is seated except for Mikhail, who says it’d ruin his concentration to have to sit. Pyra keeps silent watch. The Tree is starting to look unreasonably massive on the screen, bigger than any Titan, bigger than the sky. The trunk looks like it’s made of vines or cords wrapped around each other, each of them as thick as an Ardainian warship. Closest to the base of the trunk the clouds are thin and wispy, bending unnaturally like they did around Morytha. Pyra has nothing more than an unsettling hunch of what one might find at the roots of the Tree, and when she glances at Ontos and Malos their faces reveal nothing.

She doubts Malos would know anything.

They look at the Tree in silence. Finally Malos says, “So, how are we supposed to climb it?”

Ontos says, “The Tree is hollow on the inside, I believe…”

“What?”

“Yes,” Pyra says, now with new hope. “There should be a way to get inside. And on the inside there’ll be…” _ Stairs? Elevators? _“A way for us to ascend.”

“How interesting,” Cole says, looking at the Tree with a whole new expression. “Does this mean that the fabled World Tree is really not a tree at all?”

“Indeed,” Ontos says, sounding like he’s planning to elaborate on that and further tear down the myths of Alrest, when there’s sudden movement ahead of them. Pyra watches warily how Ophion surfaces again, head first this time. 

“What’s that _ thing _ doing here?” Mikhail demands, and Haze and Cole glance at Pyra.

“I’m trying to find out,” Pyra says, and once again tries to contact Ophion. This time the Artifice at least seems to acknowledge her existence, if not her insistent queries as to what it’s doing. It doesn’t seem to be following anyone _ else’s _ commands either, however, so there’s the possibility that it’s just standing sentry…

Ophion’s tail disappears beneath the clouds again.

“Is it gone?” Haze asks.

“”No,” Pyra says. “But I don’t think it’ll do anything…”

“Great,” Mikhail says, running his hands through his hair before putting them to the controls again. “Full speed ahead.”

From far, far away the World Tree looks reasonably sized - enormous, certainly fitting for the title of _ World Tree, _ majestic. It doesn’t obscure the whole horizon but at the same time it can impossibly be ignored. But the closer you get the bigger the Tree seems to become, and this close to the trunk, it doesn’t look like a piece of Alrest at all. It’s just too massive. It is very easy to believe that Father waits at the top of it - so high up above them that the thought of _ climbing _ up there is nearly ridiculous.

(but there is a way)

They avoid Ophion and drift around the World Tree, Mikhail steering them around the trunk while skirting the edge of the clouds for a while until-

“Look,” Jin says, and they all stare avidly at the screen. He gestures at a part of the World Tree not obscured by the megaflora, where from a wall of metal a fenced-in platform juts out over the Cloud Sea. It’s not that high up, and behind the balcony there’s an open doorway leading into the Tree. A great yawning mouth into the unknown, the world behind Alrest. 

So Father _ did _ leave a backdoor open.

Malos frowns, head resting in his hands and eyes narrowed. Ontos looks at the screen with an expression that might be curiosity, or calculation. Pyra clasps her hands in her lap, spares a brief thought for Mythra and Father, then says, “There’s your entrance.”

* * *

It takes Mikhail a good long while to maneuver the _ Marsanes _ into a position where the ship’s balcony and the World Tree platform are more or less lined up. According to Ontos (and Pyra) they need to get to the very top of the Tree, where the Architect’s got his shit. There’s a console there that they need to use. Malos himself has no memories of the World Tree, but he figures that keeping all the _ essentials _ as far away from the world as possible sounds just like something their old man would do.

They’re all standing and peering over his shoulder, when Mikhail finally gives up. “This is as ‘docked’ as it gets,” he announces grimly. “Whoever wants to climb the Tree, get going.”

“Wait, you’re staying?” Haze asks.

“Yes,” Mik says tersely. “If that _ thing _ is swimming around out there, then there’s no way I’m leaving this ship unguarded. Someone’s gotta hold down the fort.”

Haze sits back down in her chair with a decisive thump and says, “If you’re staying, then so am I.”

Well, it’s not like _ Malos _ is going to insist on bringing everyone up there.

Pyra shifts awkwardly and says, “I don’t think Ophion would attack an empty ship-”

“Don’t care. If you’re concerned about _ me,” _ Mikhail looks at Pyra. “Don’t.”

Pyra looks like she’s about to fold, but then she squares her shoulders and says, “Alright. You make your own decisions. But don’t get yourself killed for the sake of a _ ship.” _Pyra looks at Haze and says quietly, “And the same goes for you.”

Malos shares a look with Jin, who then glances at Cole. Cole sighs, runs a hand through his bangs, and takes a seat. “I’m staying too. I’d most probably be of more use here than in the World Tree, either way.” He smiles wryly.

“Right.” Malos makes himself look at Jin. “What about you?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Good,” Malos says firmly. They’ve stuck together for this long, and Malos isn’t planning to change the status quo anytime soon - watching Jin go off on his own back in Indol had felt damn nerve-wracking enough. 

Jin turns to Cole, Haze and Mikhail and says, “Take care of yourselves. And wait for us.”

“We will,” Haze promises solemnly, before turning to Pyra. “And you have to take care, too. Promise me you’ll come back, Pyra?”

Pyra swallows and says, “Yes.”

Haze nods and then her expression softens, and Malos glances away, at Cole and Mik. “Yeah,” Cole adds. “You better return - don’t make us come rescue your asses from the World Tree, got it?”

Malos shrugs while Jin says solemnly, “Don’t worry. We will return.”

Jin looks at Haze. Pyra looks at Mikhail. Malos tries not to feel impatient.

“Good luck,” Haze adds, cheerfully, at last. “We’ll be waiting!”

“Thank you,” Ontos says, and gestures to the doorway. “Shall we go, then?”

As they walk out of the bridge Haze and Cole wave them goodbye, and Malos nods back, once. Pyra waves too, briefly, but Jin doesn’t turn back. 

Ontos leads the way through the _ Marsanes _ to the ship balcony, that’s shoved up close and snug to the platform sticking out of the World Tree. After that all they have to do is climb over the railings separating the balconies, and then they’re standing on a part of the actual goddamn World Tree. That which is not actually a tree. Malos feels as if he should’ve already known this, probably, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling offended by the fact.

When he steps up to the railing again and looks down, he can see that the clouds from the sea have thinned out so much that he can see past them and down into the abyss. The vines forming the bark of the World Tree continue down into the depths, and despite his perfect night-vision Malos has trouble even seeing the bottom of the sea - there are some kinda blocky shapes down there in the fog, and what he thinks might actually be flashes of lightning.

“Remember something?” Jin asks quietly, coming to stand beside him.

“Nah. But the bottom’s a long way down,” Malos remarks, and looks up. “We should hurry up and get inside of the Tree already.”

Pyra, on the other hand, has stopped in the middle of the platform to stare straight upwards. Malos and Jin follow her line of sight, and - yeah. Those are not fucking leaves. They look more like the symbols inside an Artifice cockpit, if anything. Blue and green and circling the upper half of the World Tree, unbothered by the_ actual _leaves of the literal giant plant with a stranglehold on the World Tree. Pyra says, “Those… look like glyphs…”

“How curious,” Ontos says slowly. When Malos looks at him, he appears to be as mesmerised as Pyra.

Malos is starting to see why everyone, even the damn humans, are so dead certain of the fact that the Architect lives here.

A fake tree bigger than any other structure or landmass in Alrest. Yeah. Sounds like dad alright.

“So. A console at the top of the ‘Tree’?” Malos says, turning to Ontos.

“That’s right.” Ontos looks at the tunnel leading into the Tree. “To achieve or goal, we must reach it. I need information about Alrest I can only find there, and - it is simply so much easier to use Father’s computer.”

Makes sense, and Malos isn’t one to ask questions. He does best with orders.

The four of them look silently at the mouth of the tunnel. Then Malos shrugs, cracks his shoulder, and starts walking.

* * *

The corridor they use to enter the World Tree is enormous, and perfectly straight and even. You could fit at least three Armus walking side by side in it, and the ceiling is equally high up. It’s also dark inside, the green strips of light that line the steel walls barely providing enough light for Jin to see by. Their footsteps against the metal floor make echoes as they walk. 

Jin never spent much time imagining how the World Tree would look like from up close - but he definitely wouldn’t have predicted this. This is like a grander version of an Ardainian warship on the inside. Now that he eyes the place more critically, Jin realises that the size and breadth of the corridor could be because someone intended for vehicles to be driven in here. Vehicles transporting heavy cargo, maybe - and then Jin spots a few metal crates neatly stacked by a wall, and that hypothesis stops being an idle thought process and becomes wariness.

People have been here. People have _ made _ this place.

Jin tears his eyes away from the crates and glances back at Pyra, who’s staring at some kind of display set into the wall as they walk past. He asks, “Do you know anything about the ones who made the World Tree?”

“Father…” Pyra begins, but trails off. “The Architect was - is - one of them. I could tell you what elements the walls here are made of, but I don’t- _ remember _ anything about why the World Tree is like this, or who…”

“The people who created us,” Ontos adds, “Also made this place. I’m however uncertain of exactly what awaits us farther ahead-”

“What?” Malos calls, from the front of the group. “Not even_ you _ know anything about this tower?”

Ontos sits on a mountain of knowledge; whatever he’d told them so far, Jin had _ assumed, _ had only been the tip of the iceberg. Jin didn’t care whether he kept secrets or not as long as Jin was certain he wouldn’t backstab them. The possibility of that _ not _ being the case feels more than a little strange.

“I know the basics,” Ontos says patiently. “The Architect was a scholar of his world, the world before this one, and he is likely the only living being born of that place left. We - you, me, and Pyra - were created by his people. His world was centuries ahead of this one as far as technology goes, as evident by the fact that the so-called World Tree is still standing.”

‘Centuries ahead of the rest of the world’ was what the people said about Judicium, about Torna. Neither of those civilisations lasted.

“So what? Was this place a fortress or something?” Malos gestures at one wall while they walk.

“More of a research station,” Ontos says. “But a place this big has many uses, of course.”

“And there’s nobody living left here? No wildlife? Nothing?”

It certainly looks like it. There’s not even any dust coating the floor, and the place is silent as a tomb.

“Yes. The only living beings here should be Father and us.”

Malos glances back at Jin. No living creatures should, at least, mean that there is nothing to fight in here - unless it means that the place reeks of poisonous gas or something similar, in which case they’d have an entirely different problem on their hands.

The corridor ends with a sharp turn left, and a little alcove to the right with another display set into the wall. Taking the turn left they walk along a corridor with a slightly lower ceiling, until suddenly the walls drop away and they step out onto a large platform. Balcony. A balcony looking out over a space far too big to be called a hall, with the bottom too far down to be visible and the ceiling too high. Far away there are what appears to be free-hanging towers, and bridges made of steel and glass, and walkways far below them - the more Jin squints at the red mist, the more vague hulking shapes he thinks he can see in the distance. All within the inside of the Tree.

“Shit,” Malos swears, impressed. “For how long do you think a person’d have to fall before they hit bottom?”

Pyra breathes a word Jin doesn’t catch, and inches closer to the railing Malos is standing at to look down. Jin joins them, and looking down into the abyss from directly above... maybe there’s no red mist at all. Maybe it’s just his eyes fooling him due to the distances involved.

“Look,” Pyra says, suddenly, pointing at platform closer to theirs. “I think that’s an elevator. Since the lights are still working, I assume it’d be running too…”

“That’s good,” Ontos says. “Now we only need to reach it.”

They look at the complicated system of walkways and platforms hanging suspended over the bottomless pit that is the inside of the World Tree. It seems nigh impossible to traverse.

“I’ve analysed the area and I think I’ve found a possible path,” Pyra says. “I’ll lead the way.”

* * *

Locations usually don’t impress Malos much, but this place is fucking crazy. As if the convoluted walkways in the air or the useless red fog weren’t enough, there’s an advanced security system too. _ The only living beings here should be the Architect and us _ \- well thank you, Ontos, not like that’s much help considering the ancients who made this place apparently could make - robots.

The first one that pounces on them, speeding out of an alcove in a tower with a door that slid open by itself, is cut in half by Jin’s sword before Malos or Pyra even have the time to react. 

“Sentries,” Ontos says grimly, drawing his sword, which makes Pyra quickly draw her own.

They glance at Malos, and he snaps, “Be on your _ guard, _ for fuck’s sake,” just before another two little attack robots on wheels zoom out of a hidden alcove. And Malos doesn’t have his sword, sure, but his boots are armoured and it’s not like it’s _ difficult _ to whack something.

Destroying the two automated guards makes a whole swarm of them pop up, and while their attacks aren’t exactly overwhelming they’re armoured, and small, and constantly moving. Fortunately Jin gets the bright idea of throwing them over the railing of the walkway, which means that Malos can also have some fun now since he doesn’t have anything to cut the little fuckers open with.

When it’s over with Pyra pokes at one of the wrecks with her foot and says, “These weren’t sentient, unless they were linked to some kind of hivemind.”

“Yes,” Ontos agrees. “They weren’t alive or conscious in any way, but there might be systems in place to warn other sentries-”

“And we tripped an alarm? Great.” At least these robots weren’t much of a bother. “Let’s hope all the sentries are like this.”

Behind Jin, a hatch in the floor suddenly slams open and a white-blue robot twice the size of an Armu and bristling with cannons crawls out. 

* * *

The defense mechanism Sovereign sentries aren’t sentient, which is the only thing contributing to Pyra’s peace of mind at the moment. She’s not harming anyone that could possibly feel it. When she said she’d only fight in self-defense, she didn’t expect _ this _ much fighting - this much unavoidable fighting. At least it’s only automated robots. They are incredibly high up in the air, however, and Pyra really doesn’t want to find out whether the sentry can fling people off the platform, so she hopes that whatever program runs the sentry is very simple and won’t steer it towards any creative solutions. It keeps firing on them whenever they get close, some kind of energy blasts so it’s very doubtful that it’ll ever run out of ammunition, and it’s fast.

Malos is unarmed. Ontos is powerful but far too hesitant. And Jin’s fast and sure, but his sword isn’t made to fight big targets with. Pyra’s sword could maybe melt through the metal - if she goes for its spindly legs, at least. It’s worth a shot.

She runs at it, swerving for the volley of energy blasts and slamming her sword into the leg with all the force of her sprint. Flames jump and metal groans, the blade sinking in a good 20 centimetres, and she plants her feet to wrench the blade out again, preparing to duck- when spikes of ice shoot up from the other side of the sentry, piercing and trapping it.

Pyra rips her sword free, then cautiously moves around the downed sentry, spotting Jin crouched on the floor. He is audibly breathing. Pyra moves closer, and Jin says through gritted teeth, “There is not… a lot of moisture to freeze in here.”

Which means that most of that ‘ice’ is Ether, which wouldn’t be an issue for a normal Blade, but...

Jin’s crystal glints like freshly spilled blood in the low light.

“Oh.”

Pyra holds out a hand. Jin looks at her for a moment, then takes it, and Pyra pulls him to his feet.

“Good idea, going for the legs,” Jin says.

Mythra would be losing her mind right now. Pyra can’t quite contain her reaction to _ Jin _ telling her _ good job, _ ducking her head and schooling her expression into a calmer less broken smile before she looks at him again. She says, “Next time, you could let me know what you’re thinking so we can work together.”

* * *

They get in the elevator, and poking at the console in the middle of it makes the elevator car start rising, gold star to Pyra for that one, so in a minute they’ve traveled maybe thirty storeys up. After that the walkways lead into a corridor with four solid steel walls again, and after climbing some actual stairs, and fighting more speedy wheeled little bastards, walking through a tunnel made of glass just hanging_ in the air _ in the middle of the cavernous hall of mist - then, the corridor suddenly opens up into a large open hall. Three walls, sturdy nice floor with raised platforms at both ends. They’re at one end, the elevator at the other. The platforms both have nice tidy stairs in front and the floor seems solid enough.

But the damn hall’s still bigger than the biggest hall in the Praetorium, and the elevator is flanked by two of the really big sentries, plus a few specimens of some kind of… new robot. A robot that hovers above the floor and honestly looks a bit like a vase, except for the blue halo around it.

They stop in the doorway to survey all of this.

“We probably need to reach that elevator,” Pyra says, reluctantly. “The fact that it’s so heavily guarded - it only makes sense for it to be the one we need to take.”

Malos grinds his teeth. Can’t argue with that.

“We _ did _ defeat every other Sovereign Sentry we encountered,” Ontos adds, humming. “These appear to be much of the same stock - what do you think, Pyra?”

“Considering the facts…” Pyra pauses. “We don’t have any Drivers we need to protect. We’re Aegises, there are only ten sentries-”

“We’re doing it,” Malos decides, and charges forward with the certainty that Jin will be right behind him.

The hall is fucking large. As they jog closer, Malos realises that there’s a hole in the middle of the hall, from which a platform is now rising up and standing upon it is another fucking one of the big sentries from earlier. Except this one’s even _ larger. _

Malos grins with only teeth and takes an automatic right, seeing Jin take the left, and then the sentries finally spot them and start firing. Shields would take way too much energy and seeing as none of them have Drivers on the sidelines, as Pyra so correctly observed, there’s no point in bothering with them - Pyra and Jin go at the big one full speed, while Ontos hangs back and wavers a bit before joining in. Malos hopes he’ll lose the habit of waiting for instructions real fucking _ soon, _ because they ain’t got no one around to give them.

Still, Pyra and Jin are vicious enough for three, so Malos concentrates on trashing the smaller bots.

The hovering ones don’t seem to be armed. Malos takes down two of them before really noticing this, but by that point a new swarm of wheeled fuckers have been alerted of the fight, so it doesn’t matter. They start shooting at him, and they’re fast. They never stop moving. Malos decides that he fucking hates them.

(Not _ really. _ Not like what Amalthus used to make him feel)

Hitting _ them _ while avoiding being hit by the large one is the difficult part. It’s not the most taxing thing Malos has ever done, just annoying as fuck. By the time the big one in the middle of the room goes down, slamming into the floor with a great thud but nary a shiver of vibration through the floor, Malos has at least scrapped about half of them.

Jin, having defeated his target, joins Malos in picking off the small ones, while Pyra seems to be making sure the big one is really totally dead, while Ontos - who knows what he’s doing. Sizing up the big sentries guarding the elevator?

And hey, everything’s actually going pretty great until the small wheeled fuckers start self-destructing.

The first one that blows up next to Jin knocks him off his feet, flinging him three metres to the left, and all it’s nasty little buddies immediately set their sights on him. Malos is not very fast, nor has he ever had much use for ‘shields’ but _ now _ he sure fucking is motivated, throwing an affinity link Jin’s way with approximately the same grace as a toddler throwing a sandwich off the table and pouring all the Ether he’s got into a shield on Jin. 

Seven _ fucking _ wheeled bastards blow themselves up right next to Jin, one after another with about 0.5 second intervals, and Malos feels proud of at least hitting the floor with his knees first instead of his face.

The shield holds. Malos goddamn_ forces _ it to.

Malos’s vision flickers, his bad arm’s suddenly numb, but at least Jin’s alive and staggering to his feet over there. 

Malos’s Core hurts like a bitch.

Jin looks at him, starts struggling towards him. Seconds skip by in fits and bursts. 

Pyra reaches Malos first, says, “Your arm!”

“My what?” he snaps, but then Jin’s there and helping him sit up, crouching down next to him, and Malos down looks at his own arm-

It’s disintegrating. Not - the worst case of it he’s ever had, but half his hand is no longer _ there, _and he really fucking needs his hands, there are no nice basins of Ether that he can dunk himself into here in the Tree to replenish himself. This is why he tries to avoid fucking around with Ether; he’s not got a lot to spare and not a lot of space to store any extra. He’s weaker than a common Blade.

“Malos-” Jin begins. His cheek’s been scraped by the floor but his voice is clear.

“I’m fine,” Malos immediately says. “It’s fine. Are _ you _ okay?”

Jin _ looks _ mostly fine, but what the fuck does Malos know? Maybe Flesh Eaters can bleed internally.

“I’m good,” Jin says, but now his voice is tight and his face tense. Malos narrows his eyes at him, and Jin snaps, “Your hand is _ gone, _ Malos! Why are you so…”

“What?” Malos asks, sharply. “Jin, I’ve had worse.” For example after the last battle of Torna, when he sank the country and Mythra failed to kill him off for good. Just reminding everyone present of how much they should want him dead is an asshole move, but Malos is an asshole. Not much else to say there. Malos deserves none of the concern Jin evidently has for him, and Malos… does not want… Jin to be distressed because of something this stupid.

He doesn’t want Jin to be upset for him. He doesn’t want Jin to be worried about the monster who sank Torna, someone as beyond redemption as he is, he doesn’t-

He gets _ why _ Jin cares. For years it was just the two of them against the world. 

He gets why Jin worries, looks at him now with agony. But Malos doesn’t ever want to cause Jin any more pain.

Jin starts to give him a scathing look but the arrival of Ontos cuts him off. When Malos glances up at Ontos he realises, slowly, that the face Ontos is making is alarmed. 

“You’re suffering from Ether loss,” Ontos states, no shit genius, and then he wipes his expression carefully blank. “I can understand why you did that, Malos, but you should _ not _ have.” His voice is even and measured when he says, “Let me see your Core.”

Jin removes the chestplate of Malos’s armour then straight-up fucking cuts off his shirt, rude, but Malos’s flickering vision is only getting worse and now Malos can’t even feel the everpresent ache of his bad shoulder, so he doesn’t protest.

Jin makes a stifled noise when he sees Malos’s Core, and Malos looks quietly up at him but Jin won’t meet his eyes. Ontos and Pyra look at his Core in calculating silence, until Pyra murmurs, “It… looks as if the damage has only gotten worse…”

“He’ll survive,” Ontos tells her and Jin determinedly. He looks at Malos. “You will most probably live. But your memory… You don’t even have an external back-up, since I killed your Driver...”

His memory. He lost whole chunks of it last time, he doesn’t even know how much. Sometimes his mind just blanks on something he thinks he should know, and he realises, dammit, not that too.

“And good fucking riddance,” Malos says, then bites down on a yelp at a sudden stab of pain. Still. “Would rather die than have to listen to him again.”

“You’re not going to die.” Ontos puts a hand on Malos’s Core, closes his eyes and wow now _ that _ really fucking hurts, what the hell-

It stops. 

“I don’t know how to do this.” Ontos pauses for a long moment. “I don’t have enough knowledge of this world. I know only the bare essentials, the history of the previous world and the elements. I don’t know any specifics about _ Alrest, _ I don’t know what data it is you’re missing. Aegis Cores are too complex; I’ve never had to do this on my own before. I don’t know if I can do anything, not alone-” he sounds, for the first time since Malos met him, genuinely distressed. Ontos never shows much emotion, so this feels kind of terrifying and final.

Jin’s pale and his eyes haven’t left Malos’s face once.

“As long as Jin’s okay,” Malos says. What fucking ever, so he’ll lose - another chunk of data, scrape up whatever’s left. 

Maybe someday there’ll be nothing left of him.

“Let me help.”

It takes a moment before Malos realises it was Pyra who said that.

“We can’t fix the Blade system without Malos, right, Ontos?” Pyra squeezes her eyes shut. “And I can’t just sit by and do nothing, if there’s some way I could help. Even if it’s Malos. He got hurt protecting Jin, and I-” there’s fire in her eyes when she opens them. “I’m an Aegis, i should be able to at least do _ something.” _

She looks at Ontos.

“Please,” Ontos says, “I’ll show you how.” They look at each other, and a moment later Pyra puts her hand over Ontos’s and there’s a bright light before the whole world tips sideways.

* * *

The attack came so unexpectedly, and Malos protected him. Of course he did, as if Malos hasn’t proven it enough by now, how much he cares about Jin versus the apathy he holds for everything else- foolish man. Jin watched Malos’s arm _ disintegrate, _ as if he’s made of nothing but Ether and Jin didn’t rest his head against his chest and feel his real heartbeat just yesterday, and Jin’s unable to stop the horrible cacophony of thoughts in his head. He can’t feel his own scrapes, can impossibly take his eyes off Malos.

Jin thinks, that now Malos is dying too, no matter what Ontos said, and it’s Jin’s fault.

And Pyra’s trying to save Malos, even though he’s her former enemy. She said, how could she not try? And Jin’s barely even spoken to her, regrets it now, regrets all he’s felt about her being around. Pyra is far braver than Jin gave her credit for. Not that any of that matters at this point, if Malos is dying, lying on the floor as Jin kneels uselessly beside him just like-- Jin’s not thinking about that. Jin is, despairingly, thinking about how he could never have gotten here without Malos. For years he was a wreck. Malos a dumpster fire. Jin realises numbly all over again that It’s really been _ years, _ years together when they planned to kill the Architect and drag the world down with them but now when it’s all changed, now that they’re trying something better, _ now _ Malos is-

(Jin forgave Malos. He can forgive Pyra too because at least she tried to help)

He sits in silent frozen thought, as the light shines from Malos’s Core crystal for a minute. Two minutes. Jin doesn’t know how long. He waits, crouched beside them, and fights against the nausea and terrified beat of his heart. This isn’t the cave, he tells himself sternly, helplessly, furiously. This is no cave and there are no Ether particles in the air, no soldiers right outside.

Ontos and Pyra are doing all they can.

Malos will be alright; his arm’s flickering back to existence. Surely he’ll be alright.

He has to.

Finally they withdraw, Ontos and Pyra, and the glow wanes. Dulls to a steady purple, the Core crystal now whole, the skin surrounding it smooth. Malos’s crystal, laid bare, is as perfect as it’d been the day he fought them in Auresco.

It’s at once impossible to breathe, until Malos opens his eyes. He opens his eyes and the first thing he looks for is Jin; when their eyes meet he says, “Jin,” urgently, and tries to stand up. “Your Ether- I can finally see it again, fuck-”

Jin exhales.

Malos is fine, he evidently remembers everything, he’s _ fine. _ Dizzying thought. Jin feels shaky, too light, almost disbelieving - but Malos is an Aegis. Maybe calling yourself indestructible really does make you invincible. When Pyra and Ontos bully Malos to sit back down on the floor and Malos glares indignantly at Ontos then looks to him, Jin smiles. With his whole face, doesn’t stop to worry how it looks like or what he might be revealing, and instead only lets Malos see. See into the heart of him.

“How do you feel?”

Malos’s Core crystal is unbroken purple, the colour deeper at the centre, and it glows with a Core’s faint lustre. His arm and hand are back in place and uninjured as well, and as the relief hits Jin finally realises how much his focus had shifted - he’d been so worried for Malos he’d nearly forgotten that they’re still in hostile territory. No sentries are currently near them, anyway, Jin tries to placate himself.

Malos grins up at him impishly, and replies, “Better than ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they start their journey approximately at the Mid Level of the World Tree, but I decided to skip the platforms where in the game you'd be outside of the tree since there's nothing for them to see there.  
-anyway, i've written a big chunk of the last chapter & i'm hoping to get it up soon. thanks for reading!


	12. Godless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter! thanks to everyone who read & commented!!  
(and since someone kinda asked about this: this fic/chapter contains as much spoilers for xc1 as xc2 did, which is to say that everything is very very vague)

The Architect doesn’t care.

Mikhail realised that at an early age. Oh, the feared and revered Aegises are walking among us now, oh, they’re raining fire on the cities and Titans are sinking, _ oh, _ people are dying? Nobody cares. Certainly not the Architect.

Alrest is terrible like that. But hey; now he’s got friends a roof over his head, so he should stop wallowing in those feelings, however justified they may be - it’s unfair to Haze. Whatever. His job’s right now is to take care of the _ Marsanes. _ Haze and Cole are playing cards in the mess hall and Mik’s got the bridge all for himself. Eyes on the screens. That snake hasn’t taken any note of them so far, though Mik’s only seen the fucker poke its head above the clouds four times so far. Lying in wait.

If it makes a move, Mikhail will be ready. He’d fight tooth and nail to protect Haze, and Cole, and the little life they’ve carved out so far.

* * *

Mythra used to think a lot about being someone else.

Pyra can feel it in her memories. Sometimes she can almost taste the envy and the shame, in memories of Hugo praising Brighid for her unparalleled aim and precision and restraint, or of Jin throwing out her inedible attempts at cooking before competently taking over the dinner preparations. 

One memory, which Pyra now vividly recalls, is of Haze healing an Armu-herder’s broken ankle. Their group didn’t generally do a lot caretaking, busy as they were with the actual war and supply runs for both civilians and the militia, so this stood out. Hours before they found the Armu-herder, they’d run into a gang of bandits and Mythra had broken more than a few bones - so Haze’s ability to heal had seemed tremendous in the aftermath. She’d just looked over the injury, her hands so gentle, used an Art, and then the Armu-herder had managed to stand up again, thanking Haze profusely. The power not to destroy but to save - Mythra’s feelings had been a lump in her throat watching it.

Mythra didn’t mind the fight. Mythra loved winning. Mythra was _ good _ at fighting, but-

Jin, in the present, looks at her with his serious blue eyes and says, “Thank you, Pyra.”

-What Mythra wanted, selfishly _ selfishly _ they were in a WAR (don’t think like that, Mythra-), was to be something more than a weapon. 

“I know you don’t trust him - nor me - but regardless you saved him. Thank you.”

Pyra nods, doesn’t manage to say anything, an acknowledgement and a silent acceptation of his thanks.

Ontos thanks her too, and Malos, though obviously grudgingly.

Malos gets up. Jin helps him and holds an arm around him until Malos steps back to, apparently, see whether he can summon his sword - and his Monado appears in hand, gold and black and wickedly sharp, purple miasma burning off of its curved blade. Even the miniature Core embedded in the base of the blade is unbroken. The wild delight on Malos’s face has Pyra deliberating how fast she can draw her own sword, warily shifting her weight (as if she wasn’t anxious before this) but all Malos does is to turn to Jin and Ontos and say, “So, what are we going to do about those two,” and carelessly gesture with his sword at the two remaining Gerolf sentries standing guard on both sides of the elevator they need to use.

Now isn’t that something?

Jin looks at the sentries, then at Ontos. Calculating. He asks Ontos, “What can you tell me about them?”

Ontos plays along. “Not much. Their main weapons are the cannons in the arms. They’re the biggest class of Sovereign sentries. They were built eons ago, by the same civilisation who made us...”

“Pyra?”

Ah. “Their legs are their weakness,” she says; no in-depth analysis needed to see that. “If you get inside of their guard I suspect the accuracy of their aim will drop significantly.”

Jin thinks for a moment, then says, “Malos and I will take the left one. You two take the right. Pyra, draw its fire so that Ontos can get up close and strike its legs, then finish it off when it’s down.”

The plan makes sense, and Pyra sees no reason not to go along with it, so she nods. So does Ontos, and Malos says, “Let’s get them.”

Malos and Jin head left, while Pyra and Ontos go right. The sentries, with their limited sensor range, haven’t spotted them yet, but as soon as they do their arms fold back to reveal cannons and Pyra charges ahead. She lets her sword burn hot enough for flames to rise from it, darts in close and swipes at the sentry - then dances back again, ducking for a volley of blasts. Meanwhile, Ontos follows Jin’s instructions and rushes in quick, slicing clean through the sentry’s leg in one smooth stroke, and then the both of them retreat backwards as the large robot topples.

Finally, Ontos darts back in and finishes it. He stabs through its chest and it goes still, all its lights dying. The sentry, never alive to begin with, now destroyed.

It went quickly, smoothly, and Ontos did his part according to the plan.

They meet up with Jin and Malos in front of the elevator, at last, and now Malos has his Core on display on the chestplate of his armour, framed in gold. Even Jin’s coat, boots, whole outfit has changed, and now he’s covered in a bulky black armour with Ether lines as highlights, his coattails made of sharp metal bits. The armour cuts off abruptly at his chest, showing off a jagged scar.

Pyra averts her eyes.

“You did it. Good,” Jin says curtly. “Let us use the elevator.”

The elevator stands on a raised platform, and behind the elevator tube itself is only emptiness - the same red-tinted landscape from before. The elevator is made mainly of glass, and disappears into the darkness high above them. When Malos puts his hand on the call screen, the doors slide open for him. “Huh,” he says, and looks at the screen for a moment before moving.

They step inside, and with another touch to another screen the elevator starts rising.

* * *

On the upper levels the corridors become longer and more featureless. Narrower. Malos can only guess at how high up they might be. More informed guesses than before, sure, but he still doesn’t have the exact data.

He finds he really doesn’t care.

His shoulder doesn’t bother him anymore. He can sense Pyra’s Core crystal, _ Jin’s _ Core crystal, can feel their Ether - he can even feel some kind of Artifices parked somewhere high above them. He can sense large quantities of ambient Darkness type Ether again. He could draw his sword right now if he wanted, he could use a fucking _ Art. _ He is back online. 

There’s some kind of computer console or something at the top of the Tree, next to the Architect’s throne or however the place is organised. Malos doesn’t know. But now he _ knows _ it’s there, and they’re going to get it.

They meet no foes. It takes them a while to find the next elevator, which is in a hall that would look pretty boring and normal-sized if it wasn’t for the ceiling being almost too high up to see. In the middle of the wall opposite of the doorway they use to enter the room is the elevator, a towerlike metal construction that goes as high up as the ceiling, at least. A faint blue light is shining down on them from some unidentifiable source, but other than that the room is dark.

It’s dead quiet.

They walk across the room slowly, Malos copying Jin’s cautious pace… and nothing happens. They get across the hall. No sentry rushes out from nowhere to attack them.

Ontos opens the door, this time, but instead of an elevator there’s a white circular room behind the door, and there in the middle of that room - now that _ has _to be the elevator. Steel, glass, holographic screens - what else could it be? Ontos looks amused as he calls it, and after a moment the doors slide open.

They get inside and the doors close. The elevator starts moving.

Time seems to stand still as the elevator moves.

Malos rolls his shoulders, leans back against the wall, and asks, “So, you’ve met ours. But have _ you _ ever had a Driver, Ontos?” 

Ontos takes the question in stride and smiles wryly. “Of a sorts, yes.”

Pyra cocks her head. “I didn’t think you… had ever resonated with anyone.”

That’s one way of putting it.

“Yeah, since you didn’t even know how the Blade system worked,” Malos adds, studying Ontos.

“Well, he wasn’t a ‘Driver’ exactly as you think of them,” Ontos says. “But according to the terminology of your world, I think ‘Driver’ is the word that’d fit best.”

“Hmm,” says Jin. Through the glass sections of the elevator wall Malos can see steel walls speeding past. “Do you miss him?”

“To the best of my knowledge he’s alive and well,” Ontos says, wistfully. “Though it has been some time since I last saw him…”

“When we’re done here,” Malos asks, slowly, not even certain of it until he sees Ontos react to the words, “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

The elevator starts slowing. 

“Hmm,” Ontos says, glancing outside. “Looks like we’ve arrived.”

* * *

It is completely silent. When they step out of the elevator Jin notices first the silence, and then the massive windows. The very floor they put their feet on is made of large panes of glass held up by steel beams, and the walls are see-through. Surrounding them is darkness. The night sky, a black nothingness lit only by distant stars. Far below them Alrest seems to almost glow, the sea a bright white with swirls of darker clouds.

Somewhere in the darkness behind him are real walls and floor, furniture, some kind of doors, but Jin can’t bring himself to move away from the view.

The reality of the situation sinks in. 

They’re at the top of the World Tree. Him and the Aegises. Down there is Alrest, their homeworld, and while it’s always seemed so big to him down there, viewed from up here, it’s small. Just a sea of clouds. They truly are insignificant, aren't they. Humans, Blades, Nopon are all the same size seen from this high up: invisible. Smaller than nothing. The Architect, did he ever care about them? How could he have?

Ontos drifts over to one of the curved glass walls, narrating calmly. “This is a space station - a low orbit station. It’s been waiting up here since the dawn of your world…”

It’s hard to picture how any man-made creation could last that long. Countless civilisations have risen and fallen in that time, and that’s just recorded history. 

Pyra’s voice, suddenly, “Do you miss your home?”

Ontos smiles and says, humouring her, “They don’t need me anymore.”

“You do miss it, don’t you?” Malos. “So what if they don’t _ need _you. Maybe they’d still want you around, you ever think about that?” At that, Pyra looks at Malos, eyes unreadable. Malos notices and says, “What?”

Pyra shakes her head.

Ontos, still smiling, says, “Perhaps. But helping you all is the more urgent matter, I believe.”

“And then?” Jin asks.

“We’ll see.”

“Well, if you’re going to leave…” Malos trails off, looking expectantly at a blank-faced Ontos. “Figure I should tell you before it’s too late. It’s been fun having you around, Ontos. And… thanks.”

Ontos blinks. “You’re welcome.”

Jin’s not as close to Ontos as Malos evidently is. He hasn’t cared to be. But the concept of him leaving still feels absurd. They’ve come all this way together, from Skyldin to the World Tree. They’ve fought together, planned together, camped out in the wild together. Stolen a ship together. 

Ontos killed Amalthus.

Jin gets why Malos is thanking him.

“Thank you, Ontos,” Jin feels compelled to add, before it’s too late.

Ontos glances at him. “It’s been my pleasure.”

At the other end of the room are solid walls and floor, furniture and a couple of escalators. Pyra beckons for them to come, and after a last look through the windows they follow her. Beyond the escalators is a corridor adorned with holographic banners. All of them depict the same thing: a green hill with a lone tree against a perfect blue sky.

A single word comes to Jin’s mind.

They walk onward in silence, and the corridor increases in height but decreases in width. At the end of it is no door. A light glows so strongly from the other end, almost like daylight. Blinding after the dark of the interior of the World Tree. Almost golden. Jin squints against it and eventually he realises that what he’s seeing is _ sand, _harsh sunlight on droves of sand.

The first step outside confirms it. 

“This is…” Pyra breathes, doesn't continue.

They’re one one side of a hill, and they can’t see beyond it, so climbing up the hill becomes priority. Pyra is the first one up, rushing ahead, and then Malos, Jin - Ontos follows at a more sedate pace. They reach the top of the hill and looking down Jin can see a valley of sorts. A desert valley. A place more wretched than Mor Ardain. There’s nothing but sand and ruins, a long perfectly straight street covered in sand leading up to a ruined town. The buildings are many, scattered, continue onwards beyond hillcrests and cliffs - this city might’ve been bigger than Alba Cavanich, Auresco.

It’s all dead.

Barely any wind moves over the ruins. Everything is unmoving, the few trees Jin can see obviously dead. No sign of life. No colour other than sand and shadow.

Pyra swallows. “Do you hear that?”

In the distance a bell is tolling.

“Is this-” Malos begins, doesn’t continue.

“What... happened to this place?” Pyra whispers, and when Jin looks at her she’s wide-eyed, one hand raised as if to cover her mouth.

Ontos joins them on the hilltop. “You know of this place?” he asks.

“It’s… Elysium,” Pyra says. “But this is _ not _how I remember it.”

“Father is on the other side,” Ontos tells her, not unkindly. “We should go.”

“I know, I can feel it,” Pyra says. “I only... “ she glances at Malos for a second, but he doesn’t notice. Pyra squares her shoulders. “If we follow the sound of the bell, we’ll find the Architect.”

Jin can’t think of anything to say to her, so he only nods.

Walking through the wasteland really highlights how dead it is. Empty houses with no glass in the windows, doorways like gaping mouths. Sand spilling out of every crevasse. Tools, vehicles, playthings half-buried in the sand, laying dropped on the ground as if one day everyone who ever lived here just up and left this place. (even ‘his’ old house in Torna had had vines growing in it, moss reclaiming the floor. Here there’s nothing)

What calamity could have befallen them? If you’re on top of the world, then what problems could you possibly have?

Eventually they reach the building from which the bell can be heard. It’s more intact than the others, and as they step inside Jin sees that there’s even some intact furniture. Benches. An organ, at the far wall.

Malos is frowning, as Pyra runs a hand along the backrest of one bench. Dust coats her fingers as she withdraws.

Without any warning, a section of the back wall folds down into a staircase leading down and light spills out through the opening-

Jin’s already drawn his sword, so have Malos and Pyra, but nothing more happens. There is no sign or fanfare. Only the sudden staircase.

“Well,” Ontos says, gesturing with a hand. “Here is the door.”

Pyra lets her sword dissipate into Ether, and after a last distrustful glare, so does Malos. Jin keeps his in hand - it’d be far too much energy to let it go now only to have to summon it back later. 

They descend the stairs as one united group.

* * *

He watches them from the minute they set foot inside. He watches them climb the floors, higher and higher. Watches them stop and reflect. Watches them fight. Watches them pull one another to their feet.

He watches them come the whole way, and still he feels surprised when they arrive.

Emotions are a rare luxury at this altitude. Disappointment the most common element.

He thought that man from Indol would be the only one to ever climb this tower, but it seems he was wrong. Humanity have come up with nothing new yet, have reached no higher nor lower than his own people - but here his children are. And together with them, a Blade with a human heart in his chest.

He does not stop them. 

He waits.

* * *

Elysium was a complete dump. Though thinking too much about the idea of it _ now _ produces a fleeting image of green fields under a peaceful blue sky, which doesn’t annoy Malos quite as much as the memory gap had. Yet he wants to scoff. At least the humans in Alrest wouldn’t have let a perfectly good settlement like this one just wither away. You _ use _ what resources you have.

(the knowledge of Aion sits heavy at the back of his mind, beyond the data streams and Ether spatial awareness)

The corridor below the old temple isn’t very long, though it does slope downwards for most of it, and it ends in a large circular room. It must be dark inside, because the floor glows so brightly blue. Almost like some kinda screen or whatever. Blue glowing lines interwoven through glass. Lines of data all streaming toward the centre of the screen, the centre of the room, where a figure sits hunched over, half-eaten by a black void.

Before either of them can do anything, a voice that seems to come from everywhere at once speaks, saying, “Hello, my children.”

Right, right, the director of the whole shitshow.

Pyra twitches, focusing on the man in the middle of the room. She takes a single step forward, then stops. “Father?” 

Malos snorts. 

He’d always been aware of the Architect in some way, of the fact that he’d expressly been created by him. In Indol everyone knew it. So he went with it, flaunted it, showed off - the Indoline thought Malos was a holy message from god, hah. Haha! Fuck, he didn’t care who or _ what _ he got associated with back then, but after meeting Jin… The Architect created the Blades, created the Blade system, created every law of nature that ended up forcing Jin to tear out his own Driver’s heart. But as pissed as Malos has been at Father, as much as he’d wanted to kill him, there are a whole bunch of people down in Alrest for Malos to hate even more. Himself, among others.

Amalthus was crazy about the Architect, so Malos really can’t be bothered to give a fuck.

He doesn’t trust the Architect is the point; he never has. Father sucks. But Malos isn’t so sure about _ Pyra’s _ feelings on the matter, and she really doesn’t need more grief.

“So,” Malos says, can’t quite keep the scepticism and general contempt out of his voice. “You’re the Architect?”

The old man looks at him. “You must be Logos.” That name again. “Yes, I am the one who you call Architect.”

_ Okay then, why? Why’d you let Amalthus take us, why’d you even make us, what point were you trying to make- _ is what Malos is opening his mouth to say, but Ontos cuts him off. He takes a few steps forward and says, easily, while Pyra and Malos manage to do nothing but watch, “Hello, Klaus.”

“Ontos.” The Architect says, closing his eyes briefly. He doesn't react at all to the name Ontos called him. “Though I knew you had returned to this world, it is still quite a surprise to see you. I assume you’ve met the other half of me. How is your home faring in your absence?”

Ontos takes it all in stride. Malos doesn’t know what else he was expecting.

“All happened as I intended it.” Ontos says blandly, dismissively. “Or, if you prefer; all _ will _ happen as I’ve already lived it. Don’t worry. We’ve only come for the computer.” He smiles thinly, almost hostilely. 

“I see,” Father says, tiredly. “I’m sorry you were separated from your siblings, Ontos.”

“That is not the reason for my anger,” Ontos says pleasantly. “And I did not come here to speak with you.”

Silence.

“Klaus,” says Pyra, stepping forward. “Is that your name? Are you really… the one who created us?”

* * *

She has to know.

It’s the question leading up to every other question she wants to ask, a collection Mythra’s been curating since week one with Addam. Pyra, its sole inheritor, has only been adding to it. She’s not trying to absolve herself of guilt, she just needs to know, for what reason was she made? Did she fulfill her purpose? Was there never a purpose for her at all? Why did you make us? _ Did _you make us?

“Yes.” Father sighs. “And no. Others had a hand in your creation, as well. Though they are all gone by now.”

“And why? Why were we created?”

“You and your brothers were the administrative computer of this space station. But in Alrest…” Father speaks slowly. “I made you the Master Blades. Without Ontos I had to make do with creating the Core crystals, the Blades and the Titans. That is to say… you were made to govern this world and the Blades, and through them humanity.”

Pyra had thought that hearing the reason come straight from the mouth of the Architect would’ve put her mind at ease.

Now she realises-

She’s not a tool. She’s more than just a weapon, she’s a person. And people don’t just _ get _ their purposes chosen for them. A tool can be made to have only its one purpose and then that’s that, you use a shovel to dig and a cup to hold liquids. Easy. Simple. But people, they have to find out if they have a purpose on their own.

She knows this is the right answer, because it’s also the hardest one.

This was never about the Architect’s answer; only about her.

She’s got to live. Haze made her promise to come back. So she’s damn well going to live, even if it’s an uphill battle every step of the way, because living on and trying to atone is better than just dying. Removing herself from the world was never going to work forever, and now that she’s here, there has to be people she can help down there. If they really make it so Blades can live without Drivers, if they change the whole system that abruptly, then there’s bound to be if not problems, then at least a lot more changes incoming. She could help with that, maybe. 

She could try.

To Father Pyra only says, “I see.”

“Ontos, Logos, Pneuma,” Father says slowly. “My children. And who’s the man you’ve brought with you?”

* * *

“My name is Jin.” He speaks calmly. The storm within him has waned. Even as he travelled alone with Malos, he never displayed his emotions much - but this is different. Back then he was glacier cold even in his anger. He _ felt _and would let it quietly consume him. Today, he no longer cares - no. No, he finally does care. He has found things, people to honestly truly care about. And so, just like he let go of their plan to destroy the world and kill god, he wants to let go of Amalthus and the Architect. Some wounds never heal, but he wants to be able to function despite them. He wants them to no longer matter to him, wants them to be insignificant. Ashes beneath his boot. He wants to move on.

The Architect, distant and untouchable here in the sky, is not worth his anger.

“I’m part Blade and part human,” Jin continues. “I’ve fought alongside all four of your children. I’ve fought against Amalthus. And I ask, _ why _ did you let him take their Core crystals?”

The question burning on his tongue. One last what-if.

“Because I did not care,” says the Architect, into devastating silence. “I had seen it all happen before. In the world before Alrest, I was a human. I lived among a selfish, foolish people that would kill itself with wars rather than sacrifice their pride. I, stupidly, thought we could be better… thought I could remake the world. And I destroyed it all. Alrest is built upon ruins. Your humans evolved from Titans, Titans born from Cores I made in an effort to atone for my sin. Your humans are made of data from the old world. Your humans are exactly the same as those of _ my _ world - nothing has changed.

“When Amalthus came, I knew my efforts to make a better world were doomed from the start.”

The Architect’s voice echoes around the hall, yet is as soft as a whisper in Jin’s ear. 

For a fraction of a moment it’s paralysing.

“Because of you.” Jin finds his voice again. “If that was what you wished to see, then that was what you’d see. I do not care much for mankind anymore - but I used to. My Driver made it all worth it.”

“The Tornans were brave,” Pyra adds, quiet voice growing louder. “And kind, selfless, talented. Every soul I met was brilliant and unique. There were bandits and pillagers too, yes, but that was one in a hundred. A thousand. Can you judge all of them for the crimes of a few?”

_ Can you? _ Can Jin ever see humans in a better light again, after one shot by one Indoline soldier ripped Lora away from him?

Blades weren’t _ made _ to ever heal from losing a Driver, that’s why they return to their Cores. That’s the system the Architect has them trapped in. 

The Architect is silent.

Pyra steps forward, then stumbles, falling to one knee while a light blazes suddenly - and when she looks up again, blonde hair cascades down her shoulders and her eyes burn golden.

“You’d call this entire world a failure because of the _humans?”_ _Mythra_ demands, standing up, and it’s like not even a day has passed, she looks exactly the same as when they went to face Malos outside of Auresco - Jin does not let memory overtake him, watches Malos and Ontos stare instead. Nails digging into his palms. “There are Nopon, there are Titans and Blades - _you made us! _And you’d say all of us are nothing just because of _some humans?”_

“Pneuma-” the Architect actually pauses. “No. What is your name?”

“Mythra,” she replies, defiantly. “I would’ve asked you to kill me, but it seems the world still needs Pyra.”

* * *

She was Aware from the moment Pyra started ascending the Tree.

Watching from her pit of despair, self-hatred and guilt as Pyra was _ doing something. _ Not fucking asleep in the sea. Not playing dead. 

Though Mythra wasn’t really strictly-speaking _ here _ until she took control, just a speck in Pyra’s consciousness. 

It’s as close to oblivion as she’ll ever come.

(Look, she can admit it, if only to herself: she wants to die. She’s wanted to die since she saw Milton’s dead body, at least, and it’s--)

Taking control is terrifying - if no one sees her if no one hears does she really exist? isn’t she almost gone if no one can prove she exists? - because it’s all right fucking _ there. _ Siren, her power, Aion, the rest of the Artifices; Sirens, Colossi, Gargoyles- _ she’s _ here, eyes on her as she stands up. Her legs don’t shake but she clenches her fists and digs nails into her palms; she’s hyper-aware of her own damn skin. 

(--the worst part is that Pyra has a point. Her death wouldn't help anyone. If she, however, stays alive and tries to atone, then she just might be able to do some good)

(Never enough to make up for what she’s done. But it’d be better than nothing)

“I’ve lived for an eternity, Mythra,” Father tells her. “Humans never change.”

“Humans aren’t the only ones who live in this world.” Mythra glares at him.

“Yes. Why not let the Blades change?” Ontos cuts in smoothly - Ontos, now seeing _ Ontos _ again was a right fucking shock - and when he spreads his hands a halo of holographic screens pop up around him, data lines below them starting to stream towards him instead of to Father. Right. The computer. Their plan.

Jin and Malos standing off to one side sear her eyes as she glances past them, but she’s got Pyra’s memories. Pyra’s got her memories too, but still she managed to decide her way up here. So, Mythra’s got to work with this. Mythra wants her legacy to be Pyra. Pyra can take over again, as soon as they’re done.

As soon as it’s done.

* * *

The difficult part wasn’t finding the right universe, nor even getting there. It was finding the right point in the timeline for him to enter. A point when Pneuma and Logos both were alive in their world, and a relatively stable point in the timeline besides. Timelines can be… finicky.

And very dangerous.

And something that you ought not to ever interfere with, but… He’d been harbouring concerns for his siblings and their world.

And he was right to do so. Much like his own universe, this world has one fatal flaw, one Malos and his allies quite gladly pointed out to him. The Blade system. This world is short on memory. And many other things as well, but the main problem is that it’s hard to learn from your mistakes if you can’t remember them. A Driver making updates to the Blade system would, perhaps, see no problem with the concept of Drivers – but that’s another problem this system has caused. Depending on some external source to store your memories, who then gets control of your life as well-

He does not like that.

Fortunately, the Trinity Processor is at its strongest with all its components in place. The Trinity Processor had been a marvel even in the world it was made, and together the three of them with unlimited access to the Conduit can do anything.

They’ll make it so Blades don’t need Drivers, will at death return to their Core crystals _ but _ retain their memories, but they’ll let the function of resonance and affinity links remain, as Cole said. An option, if you’d like. The Blades, Malos and Pyra (and Mythra, he does have another sister) among them, are only asking for _ choice. _

Grimly he gets to work; he came all the way here specifically for information. And the World Tree data banks certainly have that-

Pneuma (Pyra/Mythra) is already logged in. Logos (Malos) is trying to establish a connection.

This is what they were made to do. Rearranging universes.

He puts all the data he’s collected and edited together, and sends it over to Pneuma.

He’s counting on his siblings knowing how to do this thanks to instincts - but if they don’t, he can try to guide them. Since he’s here and all, and at that thought he smiles, wider than he usually lets himself. It’s good to be reunited.

Pneuma looks the data over with an expert’s eye, however, deciding how the updates will actually look like in the real world of Alrest and what they will affect. She okays everything just as Logos manages to connect. Sends the data to him.

Logos, fumbling at first but quickly picking things up, knows how to use their combined power as instinctively as Pneuma. Pushes their will through.

And the world shifts.

* * *

“So did it work? Because I really can’t tell.”

“Jin should feel better if it did.”

“Oh... That’s good.”

Malos opens his eyes.

They’re still standing around the screens Ontos summoned, the data still streaming towards them - a stream he can dip his metaphorical fingers in if he wants to, though it’s not like he gives a shit about environmental data from Genbu so he stops quickly - and Father and Jin are both watching. At first glance Jin is shining, his Ether a brilliant storm. But it’s not as violent as before, it’s more... Natural. Blinking gets rid of that, and then Jin just looks like himself again, even with the black outfit, as he walks carefully closer to them with his sword still clutched loosely in hand.

“You did it?” he asks, and comes to a stop. If it weren’t for his heavy black gloves, Malos would take his hand.

“Yes…” Ontos says slowly, stroking his chin. “But I’m not entirely sure how we’ll witness the change in the world…”

“Resonance with dormant Core crystals shouldn’t be possible any longer, because all dormant Cores should now be awake?” Pyra offers. “Or at least I think that’s what we - Mythra - I intended.”

“Among other things,” Ontos agrees, and then they both look at Jin.

“Let’s discuss this somewhere else, shall we?” Jin says, with a pointed glance at the Architect. Yeah, fuck that dude. Thinking about Father just makes Malos uncomfortable, though the fact that he didn’t stop them kinda makes it feel like they got away with something spectacular. A ‘something’ on the same scale as successfully murdering the Praetor and getting away from the monks unharmed.

Pyra turns toward Father and says, cautiously, “We’re leaving now. You’re not going to stop us, are you?”

“No.” The old man sighs. “I have… much to think about. It was good to meet all of you. And I’m proud of you, my children. You’ve come a long way.”

Ontos stands very still.

“Take care,” Father says, at last, and Pyra nods only a little stiffly. And then she turns and starts walking toward the doorway, Jin quickly following. Malos lingers in the room only because Ontos does, standing still and staring down the Architect.

“Your time will run out eventually,” Ontos says, at last. “I’ve seen it. Perhaps you ought to think about what to do with the time you have left, hmm?”

Father bows his head, and confesses so quietly Malos might’ve misheard it, “...I don’t how I’ll ever be able to face Galea again.”

“Perhaps it is time to start thinking about it.” Ontos turns his back to him, and starts walking towards the door.

Malos regards the Architect one last time, huffs, then says, “Bye.”

And then he leaves, too.

* * *

In the elevator Malos says, “So, dad’s a fucking loser.”

“I really can’t say,” Ontos says, with an odd expression. He strokes his chin and says, slowly, “He seems different from the Klaus I knew, at least.”

“Yeah, about that. You have your own Architect in your universe?”

Now Ontos cracks a brief smile. “No, not anymore. And Father and Mother didn’t call themselves Architects, per se...”

“Mother?” Pyra exclaims, the fastest of them, while Malos stares at Ontos. Since _ when? _

Jin quirks a smile, leaning back against the elevator wall. “So who takes after who?”

“Well-”

“Don’t say it,” Malos grumbles.

“Pyra does remind me a bit of Mother,” Ontos says. “She was kind and wise and loved the people she had created unconditionally.”

Pyra has to blink a few times then clear her throat before answering. “Oh. I wish I could’ve met her.”

Ontos is quiet for a moment, then says, “My world’s timeline is quite unstable, but-”

“No, no, don’t worry about it!” Pyra says quickly, while Malos tries to process the implications of Ontos’s offer - and then he consciously decides to just shrug and drop it. Once you start asking questions about Ontos, then you’ll never stop.

They fall quiet. Malos feels as satisfied as if they’ve won a great battle, and when Jin steps closer he happily knocks shoulders with him. 

They did what they came here to do. The Architect’s bullshit laws can’t ever touch them again, and having been through all they have, meeting the Architect himself wasn’t that impressive.

Pyra shifts her weight from foot to foot, and then asks, “So we’re really… siblings?” 

“That’s an accurate enough description,” Ontos agrees, but then he looks at her meaningfully. “If you’d like to have brothers, that is...?”

“Hey, don’t drag me into this,” Malos says.

Ontos turns to him. “You don’t want us?” he asks, like family’s supposedly that easy to get rid of, and Malos just can’t decipher his expression nor his tone of voice.

“Me and Pyra don’t exactly get along.” No matter how the concept of having siblings makes Malos feel, or whatever Malos might feel about Pyra blaming herself when she definitely shouldn’t. He stares Ontos down. “And we all know you’re going to leave, now that we’re done here.” He gestures around the elevator, at the steel walls speeding past on the other side of the glass. Taking them back down to Alrest.

“Yes,” Ontos says, finally, his grey eyes serious. “But not forever. I can promise you that.”

The elevator starts to slow, and Pyra steps closer to Ontos. They lock eyes, and a moment later Pyra draws Ontos into a careful hug. After a second, Ontos gingerly puts an arm around Pyra too, and Pyra whispers something into his shoulder.

Suddenly Jin nudges Malos, and Malos looks from him to his siblings and-

Whatever. Malos doesn’t quite dare to join in, Pyra hates him and he doesn’t deserve this, but he steps closer and kind of pats Ontos on the shoulder. Solidarity, bro, or something like that.

The elevator comes to a soundless stop.

Malos has hurt everyone he knows, except Ontos. It’s almost hard to believe, that Malos spent so many weeks in Ontos’s company without ruining it all. Jin’s the one who made Malos believe he could be a real person, but Ontos is the one who killed Amalthus. Giving Malos the freedom to think things like, maybe destroying the world isn’t the best idea, and that maybe living is better than trying to make it all end. At least if he’s alive, he can get things done, like just now when they got rid of the Blade system.

Jin probably deserves better than Malos, but they’ve stuck with each other so far. And there’s no way in hell that Malos would now go and intentionally die on Jin.

Pyra withdraws, letting go of Ontos. Malos lets his hand fall. Ontos looks between them both and says, gently, “You’ve both come far, even if you don’t believe it. Now, don’t let anyone take your futures from you.” He looks each of them in the eye. “We’ll see each other again.”

“We better,” Malos says, pointing at him, as the elevator doors slide open like a period at the end of a sentence. Ontos just smiles at him, but then Jin steps forward.

“You said you have people waiting for you in your home world,” Jin tells him. “Don’t let time you could spend with them go to waste.”

Ontos’s expression goes thoughtful, and Jin steps out of the elevator. Malos follows, then looks pointedly back at Pyra and Ontos. Pyra exits the elevator, but Ontos- there’s that bright light Malos saw in the forest back in Skyldin, so damn bright it burns without the cover of trees, and then Ontos is just gone. As suddenly as he’d appeared. The elevator is empty and left behind are the three of them, rubbing their eyes.

“Well,” Malos says, a little caught off guard. “That’s that.”

“We should return to the ship,” Pyra says. “Your crewmates are probably worried about you two.”

“That goes for you as well,” Jin tells Pyra, in his low and serious voice, which Malos kind of likes. “You’re welcome to stay with us for however long you want.”

“I… we can talk later,” Pyra decides, maybe a bit uncomfortable. They glance at the elevator, and then Pyra looks back at the doorway of the hall. “Shall we?”

* * *

The walk back is quiet. Anticlimactic. Jin thinks about scars and having stitched wounds reopen. About how Blades heal so much better than humans, no scars ever sticking, skin never anything other than a blank slate. And he thinks about the wounds that despite that refuse to heal. He thinks about all the sayings about wounds that humans have, about time and scars and things that don’t kill you. He wonders if he’s imagining that it’s easier to breathe now.

Ontos left, too. Just like that.

In the span of a heartbeat. That’s how it’d felt to watch the Aegises cluster together, data seeping over their hands, Jin realising that there’s not _ one _ God in the room but four - or maybe just three. Three Gods, and the Architect and Jin had been watching as they rewrote universal law. And Jin had felt something then, which he still can’t describe.

The corridors are empty. They run into only one group of sentries, and Malos makes a black hole that eats them all up. In the blink of an eye. Pyra doesn’t say anything about it, but Jin sees her watching Malos like a hawk. Jin doesn’t care. That one impatient action somehow convinces Jin more than anything that no matter what he’s now capable of, he’s still Malos.

They take another elevator down, and Jin leans against a wall though he does not feel tired. He draws in a breath and braces for pain that doesn’t come. He exhales. He raises a hand to push back his fringe as an excuse to brush a hand over his Core crystal. He presses his fingers down on it, feels only the chill smooth surface.

No pain.

He’s waiting for… something. Something akin to the feel of his and Lora’s bond snapping, the feeling like his chest was caving in even as everything went numb. Something _ bigger, _something-

Malos looks at him, holds out a hand. 

The heart in his chest dutifully keeps beating and beating and Jin lets the gloves melt away, takes Malos’s hand. It’s warm. Warm and solid. Everything’s so quiet.

When they reach the balcony on the outside of the World Tree, the sun’s setting. The Cloud Sea is endless and open ahead of them, and below them is the _ Marsanes, _ with Ophion nowhere to be seen. Everything’s alright. They climb aboard the _ Marsanes, _ and enter the ship. It’s quiet aboard, too. Almost alarmingly quiet, at first, but the mess hall and engine rooms are far below them, and the others could be there. The others are definitely there.

They take a peek into an empty bridge, after which Jin suggests they go down to the mess hall. They walk down the stairs, through the corridors, and as they approach the mess hall Jin starts to hear voices. _ Unfamiliar _ voices.

He shares a glance with Malos, then looks at Pyra. She hesitates for a beat, but then she starts walking again. So Jin and Malos follow.

They stop dead in the doorway of the mess hall. Mikhail, Haze and Cole are all there, sure, sitting around a table - but so are about twenty other people too. _ Blades, _ as Jin quickly realises, seeing a being wrapped in shimmery golden wings with blue Ether lines proudly displayed sitting next to a dark-haired man with glasses, gesturing animatedly as they talk. It’s surreal; and _ here _ comes the feeling of it being hard to breathe that Jin’s been bracing himself for. He remembers that Pyra had said dormant Cores would awaken, and - and the crate that Jin had brought aboard. The crate full of Core crystals.

They’re really awake. Alive only for themselves. No Driver’s touch required, no unalterable bonds tying them down.

Their Core crystals shine pure blue but they have no Drivers, and now they’re all noticing him and Malos and Pyra clustered in the doorway, and Jin doesn’t know what to say. He can’t imagine what his expression must be doing, but Pyra’s open mouth is slowly turning into a smile and Malos is only watching Jin’s face, starting to grin himself. “You’re back!” Haze exclaims, joyful, rising from where she’d been sitting with another Healer type Blade, a Blade who has no Driver and will never have and there won’t ever be any more Flesh Eaters, no one else will have to go through what Jin and Cole did, Malos and Haze and every other Blade who’s Driver never-

Jin’s fine. Jin’s as calm as a clear winter sky and Malos is pulling him into a one-armed hug, and Jin laughs. There’s no pain, not even as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand - marvelling at how at the end of it all, he and Malos and Haze, Cole, Mikhail, even Pyra are alive, and here with them are twenty Blades, free to do as they please.

So many times he’d thought that he should’ve died with his people in Spessia. But here his people are, and here he is, alive.

* * *

A few weeks later, they’re docking in Gormott. Lascham Cove has been all but abandoned in favour of a new port in the ruins of Torigoth - though Haze supposes someone must’ve rebuilt there by now. The White Chair that’s located all the way up by the Titan’s neck is the only place anyone would have any business in, either way, as Jin had reassured Cole earlier, so they’ve got Lascham Cove all to themselves. 

The sun’s shining, even though the winds chasing clouds across the sky block it out and make shadows fall for brief intervals. The grass on the fields is billowing like the sea, even across places that once were road. 

They both had wanted it to be Gormott. Torna is gone, and they can’t set foot in Spessia where she died or Torigoth where Rynea’s buried, but all the same… If they’d really be getting the chance of giving Lora a proper funeral, Haze and Jin wanted to bury her in Gormott.

Some of the Blades who had awakened left when they stopped to get supplies at the Voltis Trade Guild last week, but some chose to stay. _ “I don’t care either way,” _ as one of them, Patroka, had framed it. _ “Jin’s cooking’s good, at least.” _Patroka’s an Earth Blade, and when Jin had mentioned making a grave, she’d even nonchalantly offered to help. She’s with them now, as they’re standing by the freshly dug grave and waiting. Jin went to get Lora from the ship. Alone. Not even Malos or Mikhail went with him.

Haze has had to make her peace with Lora’s death, and so has Jin. She’s dead and there’s nothing they can do to change that, but her death still wasn’t their fault.

Haze’s bond with Mikhail faded while Jin and the others were up in the World Tree. All of a sudden it just started fraying, but not - not like when Lora died. But just like with Lady Lora, Haze didn’t have the time to think about it in the moment, because 21 confused Blades showed up in the mess hall soon after, and there’d been so much to do, then and in the days after. Haze thinks she could probably resonate with Mikhail again, if they wanted to, but since there’s no need for it… She doesn’t want to. It’d been weird to suddenly have Mikhail’s emotions at the back of her head, after having Lora ripped away what felt like a mere moment ago. She doesn’t even remember being Amalthus’s Blade in between. But even between the choice of Lora and Mikhail, Haze knows that Lora was the only Driver for her.

She wants to mourn that in peace, and she can support Mikhail without being his Blade. She’ll always remember Lora, but she’d like to look back on their time together with affection and not agony. And she knows she won’t be alone to remember her.

Pyra starts and glances back at the ship, and Haze follows her gaze. Jin’s returning. In his arms Lora looks so small. Her eyes are closed. If she weren’t so limp and pale, it’d look like she’s just sleeping.

Their little crowd parts for him wordlessly.

Jin gently lays her down in the grave. Haze takes a last moment to simply look at her. To memorise the differences between Lora’s face and her own. 

Then, she steps forward and places a bouquet on her chest. As Haze withdraws, Cole and Mikhail and Pyra start to cover Lora with flowers. It’s not really a traditional mercenary funeral, or even a Tornan one, but in this place of flowering nature, it feels fitting. Lora’s peaceful face, surrounded by white petals…

Haze keeps her composure, feeling only a little numb.

Jin comes to stand next to Haze. She leans into him. The wind tears at their hair and clothes, and Lora lies dead in the grave.

Jin’s voice is rough when he says, “I’ll never forget you, Lora. You were the best Driver… the best friend anyone could’ve asked for.”

“Thank you,” Mikhail says, quietly. “For taking me in. For everything.” 

“...We all loved you. And we’ll miss you“, Haze finishes, so inadequate to describe everything that Lora was. But are there any words higher than ‘I love you’? Any sentiment bigger than that? Any words more worthy to be said?

Haze swipes a hand over her eyes, then nods to Patroka. With a care Haze has never seen her exhibit before, she taps her bardiche against the ground and lets dirt well up to cover Lora and the flowers. There’s no casket, no lid to close. No grave marker, as they’d decided upon. Only the earth taking her body. Only the wind sweeping through, Jin still as a statue against Haze, Mikhail standing with closed eyes, Pyra bowing her head.

Jin’s the first to move, taking a few steps back. Haze bows, looking at the grave one last time, then follows Jin.

They walk.

“When I died - went back to my Core… I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to bury her,” Haze tells him, softly. If Lora had to die, then Haze is glad that at least she and Jin could give Lora a funeral, something so many others didn’t get. It’s a terrible silver lining - but Haze wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else than here, today, anyway.

They walk towards the ship. Jin says, “I promised her… when she was dying, I took her heart because she said… she couldn’t bear the thought of me forgetting her.”

Haze stares at Jin, who keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I became a Flesh Eater, so that she’d never be forgotten.”

_ Is _ there any sentiment greater than love, Haze had asked herself, and here’s the merciless answer: no. “Jin…” she says, and Jin stops, looks at her. Haze - already feeling like she’s got an empty hole through her chest, having put Lora in the earth - puts her arms around Jin and doesn’t quite manage to find her voice in her clogged throat, holds Jin closer instead. Once upon a time they acted in sync, could read each other’s thoughts through Lora, fought side by side. If Haze embraces Jin now, like this, maybe she won’t have to say the words out loud. Maybe he’ll understand.

He’s cold. At first Haze almost thinks he’s going to push her away, but then he gingerly embraces her back. The two of them, alone, struggling to breathe evenly. 

Until Mikhail joins them, reminding Haze of who she is. And of what she’s got left.

* * *

Jin stands tall and confident in the bridge next to Mikhail as they take off, while the rest of them sit gathered in the sloppy circle of chairs. Malos would almost be worried about how calm and collected Jin seems, if he hadn’t hugged his feelings out with Haze and Mikhail back in Gormott. Jin’s not falling back into apathy like the Architect, his heart is too great for that. And besides - Malos can always talk with Jin later. That’s a thing they can do, now. Save discussions for the future.

Jin turns around to face them, and then he looks pointedly at Pyra. “I told you in the World Tree you could stay with us. Would you like to join us?”

Haze looks hopeful, Akhos curious.

Pyra, hands clasped in her lap, takes a moment to answer. “Tell me first… What are you actually planning on doing?”

“We should visit all the Titans, to see how the Blades are faring,” Jin says. He’s thought about this, of course. “Then… depending on that, on what we see there, we’ll decide what we shall do next. Unless _ you _ know anything more about the situation?”

Data from the Blade Core crystals flow endlessly back and forth between Malos, Pyra and the World Tree, but Malos has never been good at paying attention to the stream. It’s better white noise than Amalthus was, at least. And the data stream’s flowing more rapidly than ever now, since all the Core crystals available in Alrest have awoken.

Pyra bites her lip. “Maybe we should visit Indol first?”

Fuck. That’s right. Those bastards had been hoarding Core crystals-

“Hold up,” Cole says, frowning. “We’ve got more firepower now than ever, certainly. But Indol is not a country to trifle with lightly, regardless - and what are we supposed to do if other nations take Indol’s side?”

“You think it’ll come to _ war?” _ Mikhail asks, incredulous, looking back over his shoulder for a second before turning back to the controls. “We’re not even _ from _ any country! What would they do? We don’t have to care about the world or any leaders. We’re not here trying to fix _ all _ of it for them or something - we’re only doing this for the Blades.”

“And besides,” Akhos says wryly, pushing up his glasses that he definitely doesn’t need. “How would they_ fight _ a war, without their loyal Blades? In _ this _ play it is us who hold the leading roles.”

Akhos, another insufferable playwright, who’d decided to stick with them because of Cole, and sitting next to Akhos is golden-winged Obrona, who thought Akhos was hilarious and decided to join their crew because of him. Sitting across from them are Patroka and Perdido, who’d quickly become sparring partners and didn’t seem to care where they were either way and thus had decided to stick with Jin. And on Patroka’s left is Cressidus, who had started helping Mikhail out in the engine rooms and become fast friends with him.

“There won’t be a war,” Jin agrees. “This isn’t a land dispute. And they can’t stop the Blades from awakening, or leaving, or doing whatever they please - it’s already happening. We’re already free. The humans will have to accept this.”

One way or another.

“And if the situation does turn to violence?” Cole asks.

“We’ll try to solve it peacefully,” Haze says, the relentless fucking optimist who’s the one keeping them all sane, and looks at Pyra. “The Aegis is respected by all. If Pyra told people to listen…”

“And if they don’t?” Patroka asks, sounding almost bored.

“We’re a capable crew. I’m sure that if we must, we’ll find a way to resolve the situation,” Jin says grimly. “Not every country is as bad as Indol. And as long as we live, there’ll be more opportunities for us to figure this out, to help Blades with nowhere to go…” He pauses, and looks at them all seriously. “This won’t be an easy task. It might be dangerous, take years to do, may never be finished. Simply visiting Indol will be very dangerous - and we may have to pay for the Skyldish ship we shot down, not to mention the fact that we murdered the Praetor. If any of you want to leave, I understand.”

No one moves.

Cole sighs. “I swore I’d leave as soon as we’d killed the Praetor, and yet, here I am. We’re all with you, Jin.”

“A revolution sounds like fun,” Obrona agrees cheerfully. “Let’s go!”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” Malos says, low and intense, when Jin looks at him. If Jin says they won’t fight, then Malos will trust his lead, no matter how much he’d rather turn to bloodshed. He’ll always listen to what Jin has to say.

“Helping Blades…” Pyra says, looks at her hands, then raises her chin determinedly. “I suppose I’m in, then.”

“Thank you all,” Jin says, to the silent sober crew, and then he turns to Mikhail and says, “Take us to Indol.”

Mikhail nods. Decisions made, most of their crew gets up and starts to leave. They’ve been redecorating the _ Marsanes _and everyone’s eager to finish painting their quarters, but Malos and Jin’s room is already done. So Malos gets up and goes to stand next to Jin, watching the Cloud Sea on Mikhail’s many screens, and Jin doesn’t quite turn to him as he says, “Cole’s writing a play about Addam’s life.”

“Huh,” Malos says. “Figures he’d do that.”

“Mmm…” Jin draws the sound out, like a sigh, then says, “It’s making me think… maybe I’ll write a book about Torna.”

The sun shines on the clouds, blindingly white. Mikhail pulls a lever.

Malos clears his throat and says, “You should.”

He himself doesn’t have the right to speak of Torna. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but there’s a lot of things for Malos to do before he’s finished here.

“Yes,” Jin says. “After we’ve seen to Indol, maybe…”

“You’ve got all the time in the world,” Malos says, lightly, but Jin turns to him and suddenly the gravity’s increased. Jin’s eyes are blue like ice up close, but they’re not cold. Not now. He smiles at Malos, slow and a little wondering, and says,

“We do have all the time in the world, don’t we?”****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> chapter titles:  
I’m God - Clams Casino  
Old friend - Elderbrook  
Alone and sublime - Mother Mother  
Kingdom of One - Maren Morris  
Honey - Evelina  
Gone - Charli XCX  
Wait For It - Hamilton musical  
Old wounds - PVRIS  
Bad body double - Imogen Heap  
All possible futures - full album by Miami Horror  
The Towering Yggdrasil - xc2 OST  
Godless - BANKS


End file.
